


Deeply Dangerous Dean

by ScorchedAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Sam, Character Death, Cop!Sam, Crime Scenes, Dubious Consent, Inappropriate touching, M/M, Murder, One-Sided Attraction, Serial Killer Dean, Serial Killers, Slow Burn, Somnophilia, Wincest - Freeform, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 47,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScorchedAngel/pseuds/ScorchedAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a quiet blood spatter analyst who keeps himself to himself and Sam is a detective on the hunt for the man who murdered his girlfriend Ruby. They've both been keeping secrets from each other and everyone else that have the potential to turn their world upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally completed as part of the 2015 Work In Progress Big Bang!
> 
> Based on a suggestion I saw [on Tumblr ](http://supernaturalpsychopaths.tumblr.com/post/73849614585/why-arent-there-dexter-themed-wincest-aus-where)and couldn't get out of my head.
> 
> Just FYI: "The Demon" is the equivalent of Dexter's "Dark Passenger" and not a real demon. There aren't any supernatural elements to this story. At least, no more than Dexter!

The man’s name is Azazel. He’s a teacher at a nearby elementary school, sings in the church choir, visits old ladies on the weekend. The kids love his easy going attitude, with his shorts and yellow sunglasses (that he wears all year round). Adults love his eagerness to help out and how he remembers everyone’s names.

But Dean knows what he does with his spare time.

He’s had his eye on Azazel for weeks. He knows his routine. He knows where he goes when he breaks his routine.

He watches him as he waves off the last choir member at 10.10pm, right on schedule. Being such a nice guy, he’s entrusted with the key to the church. If only they knew what he’s been doing with it.

He crosses the road to where he’d parked his car and lights one of the cigarettes he thinks no one knows about. Dean knows. Devious Dean knows all there is to know about the man. He decides to let him enjoy one last smoke.

As Azazel stubs out the end of his last cigarette, Dean lets his Demon take over. He crouches in waiting while the man climbs into the driver’s seat. The Demon pounces, closing the noose of fishing line around the man’s neck.

“Quiet you son of a bitch.” He sees the man’s eyes widen in the rear view mirror. “Start driving.”

The man chokes and grabs uselessly at his neck, but he complies. He had heard the Demon’s voice, saying no is not an option.

Dean directs him through the quiet streets and out of town. Along the deserted, tree lined roads.

“Take a right,” Dean says.

The man’s eyes widen again, but he turns into the dirt road anyway. It’s the type of road you wouldn’t see unless you knew it was there. The car bounces along the uneven road, pulling the fishing line tighter around the man’s neck.

They pull up outside a house they both know is vacant. The two storey building was deserted decades ago and is so far out of the way, no one had even bothered to vandalise it.

Dean finally loosens the pressure on the man’s neck and gets out of the car. He pulls open the driver’s door and takes hold of Azazel’s arm. “Out of the car asshole.”

The man looks past Dean to the house, then back over his shoulder towards the main road. Planning an escape route. He apparently thinks taking on Dean is his best chance and tries to throw a punch with his free hand. Dean catches it easily and drags him to his feet.

“Try that again and I’ll cut your hands off,” the Demon hisses. “Let’s go inside.”

Dean drags the man towards the house. Either the man realises there’s no point in fighting Dean and his Demon, or he knows what is coming is inevitable. He doesn’t bother fighting.

He pushes open the door to what had once been the kitchen and at the sight of Dean’s surprise, Azazel falls to his knees.

“No, please God. Oh no!” He pulls at Dean’s jeans. “Forgive me, please!” Like Dean is in any position to offer absolution.

He could only find three, but he knew there were more. Children’s bodies in various states of decomposition. All buried in shallow graves around the house. All abused and killed by Azazel. It made more of a mess than Dean would have liked but it was worth it.

“Please…” the man moans. All fight completely gone from him now.

“It’s too late for begging,” Dean says and pumps a syringe of tranquiliser into the man’s neck.

He wouldn’t be out long, just long enough for Dean to prepare the room. It’s all part of his ritual. He spreads sheets of plastic over the floor and cabinets and ties Azazel to a decaying dining room table. While he waits for the man to wake up, he drags the kids back to their graves, uttering an apology they wouldn’t hear that he couldn’t return them to their families.

 

-o-o-

“Why are you doing this?” the man cries as Dean cuts through one of his legs.

They always want to know “why” like they don’t already know the answer. They all have their own demons that took over when they stalked their victims. Like that would have offered them any comfort. They were all monsters, just like Dean. Dean was just a special kind of monster. A well trained, higher class of monster. Decidedly Domesticated Dean.

“Why did you kill all those children?” he counters.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen! I loved them. All of them. They were my kids! Things just got out of hand.”

“That’s how you show love, huh? Taking kids away from their families? Taking them into the church where they thought they’d be safe and abusing them? Dragging them out here and killing them?” Dean slices off one of the man’s ears. He ignores the screams. “Children man! You are the lowest of the low.”

“You’re going to regret this. I have a family! People will know I’m missing.”

“My one regret is that I can only kill you once.”

The man dies while Dean is working on his abdomen. Shame. Soon he’s nothing more than a pile of body parts. A broken egg. Dean disposes of the plastic wrap and the man’s remains in garbage bags and loads them into Azazel’s car.

A quick stop at his favourite spot in the middle of the forest and he’s back at the church by 4am. When they realise the man is missing they won’t find a trace of evidence in his car. Dean is meticulously clean. A careful monster.

He drives the Impala back to the apartment he calls home and is asleep by 5.30am. The Demon inside him is happy for now.

-o-o-

Dean was startled awake by Led Zeppelin blaring from his phone. He picked it up and groaned at Sam’s name on the screen. At that time of the morning it could mean only one thing.

“Whu?” he managed.

“Dude, it’s 8.30, why are you still asleep?” Sam sounded like he’d been awake for hours… probably had.

“Wha?”

“Get out of bed Dean, we need you at a crime scene. I’ll text you the address. Hurry up!” He hung up before Dean had a chance to say anything.

He rolled out of bed and put on his jeans and the first plaid shirt he could find that was clean. He filled his travel mug with coffee from yesterday and jumped in the Impala, heading for the crime scene.

Every monster needs a disguise and this was Dean’s. Your friendly neighbourhood blood spatter analyst. People rarely noticed the forensics guy. He was the one who came along after the drama to take pictures and run boring tests and that suited Dean just fine.

Detective Sam Winchester was the pride of the family. A detective, just like his old man, with the skill and ambition to go much further. If Dean could feel anything other than loathing, it would be for Sam.

By the time he arrived at the crime scene, he was practically awake. He parked beside the squad cars, flashed his security pass and followed the trail of unsettled people into a house.

“Dean! Finally!” was all the greeting he got from Sam before he was dragged into the crime scene that had once been a kitchen.

The whole room was covered in blood. It was even on the ceiling. It was as though someone had blown up in the middle of the room. Dean cringed at the mess.

“From what we can tell,” a gravelly voice came from behind, “This isn’t just blood on the walls, it’s everything. Bones, hair, teeth, you name it, and hydrofluoric acid. Just like the others.”

“Hey Cas, nice to see you too,” Dean said, glancing around the room.

Sergeant Novak gave him a wry smile. “Hello Dean.”

Dean had seen an almost identical crime scene three times already. Each time the victim had been liquidised and used to paint the walls. Officially there were no suspects. Unofficially, Dean knew exactly who was doing it.

“If this is just like every other, why am I here? Gabe should have it covered.” The killer was almost as meticulous as Dean. He had never left any evidence. At least none that could be considered “legally obtained”.

Sam waved him over to a spot in front of the refrigerator. “Take a look at this.”

Barely visible, but unmistakable once you saw it, was a handprint.

“It’s covered in a layer of, um… victim, but what do you think? Can you get prints from it?” Sam was bobbing on the spot like a kid who’d been promised candy.

“I can try man, but it probably belongs to the victim.”

 

-o-o-

He was wrong. The hand print belonged to Ephraim Holmes, a person Dean had been stalking for months. He had been ready to pounce when Azazel had just fallen into his lap. Now the police were going to get there first.

Sam burst into Dean’s lab. It was 2pm, the exact time Dean had told him the results would be ready. “Well?”

Dean considered just telling him the truth. After all, letting the police carry out their form of justice when possible was what John had always taught him, but this was different. Dean thought he had found a killer almost as careful as himself. Someone who enjoyed the ritual. Instead he found out he was just another idiot who got caught.

“The blood and the prints both belonged to the victim,” Dean told him.

“Oh.” Sam looked like he’d been punched.

“Hey, don’t sweat it Sammy. He’s bound to slip up sooner or later, right?” Dean got up from his computer and gave Sam a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“You’re probably right. I just thought this might be it, you know?”

Dean gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Sure.”

“Hey, want to grab some dinner tonight? I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately.”

It was true, Dean had been throwing himself into his extracurricular activities a lot lately.

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said and paused. “But can we make it a late one? I have a few things to do after work.”


	2. Chapter 2

It has only been a day since his last hunt, but the Demon doesn’t seem to mind much. The situation had become desperate and he wasn’t letting this man slip from his grasp. Dean sits on a dining room chair in Ephraim’s kitchen with his feet crossed on the countertop. He has always liked the wipe-clean surfaces in a kitchen. He had cut off Ephraim’s left foot when he was passed out and holds it precariously over a bucket of hydrofluoric acid as he waits for the man to wake up.

Ephraim comes round, tied face down to his kitchen table. If it hadn’t been for the pain, he probably wouldn’t have awakened for at least another half hour but a wound like the one at the bottom of his leg tends to get one’s attention. A scream escapes his lips and he writhes uselessly against his restraints.

“Hey man,” Dean says, “Am I doing this right?” he drops the foot into the bucket and lets himself enjoy the look of dismay on the man’s face.

“No!” he howls, struggling again.

“No?” Dean gets calmly to his feet. “Ok, so maybe I need a little more practise.” He picks up a saw from his kit and wraps his hand around Ephraim’s wrist.

Ephraim struggles as though he’ll be able to escape his bonds on one foot and with so much blood loss. “You’re insane!”

Dean shrugs. “Could be, yeah.” He gestures towards the selections of trophies from the victims which he found in the man’s bedroom. “What’s your excuse?”

“They wanted to die! Every one of them begged me to kill them!” Ephraim is shouting now. Perhaps he hopes a neighbour will hear the commotion.

“Wrong answer,” Dean says as he starts sawing through the man’s arm. It’s much harder when he’s awake and struggling, (not to mention the screaming) but he eventually saws through the bone and averts his eyes from the blood pouring from the stump that’s left behind. He tosses the hand absent-mindedly into the acid.

“Why are you doing this?” Ephraim rasps between screams.

There it is.

“Why did you kill those people?” Dean pulls the chair closer to the table to hear the man’s answer.

“I was doing them a favour,” he pants, barely getting the words out. “None of them had anything to live for! They all told me so themselves. I was providing a public service.”

“Bullshit,” Dean spits. “You convinced them they had nothing to live for. It was all part of the hunt, making them beg for it.”

“No!”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yes.” He cuts the man’s throat, killing him within a minute. Usually he would take his time over an asshole like this, but he has dinner plans.

He stuffs the man and the blood-stained sheets of plastic into garbage bags and loads them into the trunk of Ephraim’s car. He checks for evidence of his activities before pulling the door shut behind him and pulling out of the garage.

He drives out of town as quickly as possible without drawing unwanted attention until he gets to the quieter rural roads. There are huge pine trees on either side of the road so even in the light of the summer evening, the road is dark and shadowy. He turns into a narrow split in the trees along a long forgotten service road for loggers. The road is overgrown and rarely used by anyone but Dean.

He drives to the familiar clearing and sets the man’s remains alight. He leans against the car and watches the flames with quiet reverence. Ephraim may not have been the kindred spirit Dean had been hoping for, but he was certainly interesting. He breathes in the smell of smoke and revels in the calm that particular scent always brings him. The smell of a job well done.

He waits for the fire to die down before throwing dirt on the burning embers with a shovel he picked up in Ephraim’s garage. He drags the bones a couple of hundred yards into the densely wooded forest and starts digging. John Winchester had showed him this place when he was a teenager. “Going on a hunting trip,” he’d grunted as he bundled Dean into the Impala and taken him to the clearing, casually mentioning that the place was now a protected area and no one would be coming back. He’d learnt a few other tricks that day too.

The sound of a branch breaking snaps his attention back to the present. “Who’s there?” he calls out. There is a rustle in the trees and the source of the sound retreats. It’s something large… or someone.

Has he been seen? Has someone intruded on his private ritual? It’s hard to decide which upsets him more. Could they tell what he’s doing? Had they seen him burn the body? His heart races as every possibility is played out in his head.

He shakes himself and tries taking some deep breaths. These woods are alive with elk, and he’s here much earlier than usual. A curious elk probably wanted to see what was going on. Even if someone had seen him, he would just look like a camper burying his waste.

He wastes no time in burying the bones and driving back to Ephraim’s to pick up his car. He makes a quick stop at his apartment for a change of clothes and walks the four blocks to the restaurant to meet Sam, hoping dinner and a few drinks will help settle his nerves.

 

-o-o-

Dean slid into the booth opposite Sam, flashing him a grin as he stole a swig of his beer. “Hey Sam, sorry I’m late. I almost hit an elk on a road outside town and Baby needed some TLC.”

Sam looked unamused but he smiled back anyway. “Don’t worry about it. I was starving so I ordered for you too. Hope you’re in the mood for tofu burgers.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “You sure do know the way to a man’s heart Sammy.”

Sam gave him a wry smile and waved to their waitress for two more beers. “So, get this. We got a break in that case. The Jackson Pollock wannabe?”

So much for settling his nerves. “Oh yeah? What is it?”

“A neighbour of one of his victims, came forward when she heard about the latest murder on the news.” Sam was practically bouncing.

“How? I mean, I thought you canvassed the whole neighbourhood at the time.”

“We did, but this lady was staying with a friend and was too scared to come forward. She demanded a team to watch her house, but with the information she had, Lieutenant Singer was more than happy to oblige.”

Dean nodded, his curiosity piqued. “So what did she give you? A description? Car?”

“Better!” Sam said, looking like he might burst, “She saw his face. She sat with the sketch artist and the guy’s been all over tonight’s news. Someone’s bound to recognise him.”

Dean took a drink of the beer the waitress had just brought them. “That’s really great Sammy, I hope someone can tell us who he is.”

“I just… I really want to solve this one,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I think when Bobby threw it my way he’d pretty much given up hope and didn’t want to do the paperwork. It’s hard to get anyone to take me seriously when they keep tossing me these cold cases.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that,” Dean said, leaning forward. “Bobby’s known you your whole life! He knows you’re no sap.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about, you know that.” Sam said with a sigh.

Bobby was an old friend of their Dad’s. They’d worked together for almost thirty years and was a friend to the whole family. When Sam became the youngest new detective in seventeen years, there had been muttering throughout the department that ‘Uncle Bobby’ had had something to do with it.

“You’ll get a break in the case, don’t worry,” Dean said, unsure what he was really hoping for.

They chatted more about work as Lynyrd Skynyrd played softly from a jukebox in the corner, falling almost silent when the waitress brought their meals. Dean automatically flashed the waitress a grin when he asked for ketchup. Charm came easily to him; it was important for his ‘cover’. Sam just smiled and shook his head when the woman blushed.

Dean took a bite out of the cheeseburger Sam had mercifully ordered for him. If there was one thing Dean could enjoy (other than murder), it was a good cheeseburger.

“Good call man,” Dean said, pointing at his plate. “Something wrong with yours?

Sam was absent-mindedly poking his food but barely seemed to notice it was there. “Oh uh, no it’s fine.” He shovelled a fork-full of fries into his mouth to demonstrate. “Hey uh, you still have that spare room, right?”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, why?”

“Would you ever consider renting it?”

“To who? You?”

“Maybe.”

It occurred to Dean where this was going. “Is there something you want to tell me? Are you and Amelia having problems?”

“No,” Sam answered too quickly, “Things are…great. I guess…”

“Convincing.”

“I think I’m, uh…bored? Everything’s become so normal, you know? I’m completely comfortable in her presence, and I like her. I just don’t feel anything anymore. You know what I mean?”

Dean knew exactly what he meant. “Sure.”

“So I was thinking, maybe if we decided we needed a bit of space…I could stay with you for a while?” He looked hopefully at Dean, apparently expecting an answer.

Apart from a few weeks last year, Dean had lived alone since he came home from college at twenty one. It suited him and his hobby. The idea of a cop living under the same roof long term was ludicrous. “Look, Sam—“

“It would only be temporary,” Sam interrupted, reading the doubt on Dean’s face. “Just until I find a place of my own. Please Dean.”

Dean had always had trouble saying no to Sam. “You’re right, sorry man. Of course you can stay with me. But you’re not bringing the dog!” The smile on Sam’s face almost settled the unease in Dean’s stomach.

“I’ll talk to Amelia tonight. Thanks so much for this Dean, you’re the best.” Sam seemed to settle down and took a bite of his burger. “So hey, I haven’t asked you about your love life lately. Do you have anyone special?”

Somehow Dean had a reputation for being a womaniser, but the truth was he didn’t have much interest in romance. He flirted a lot though; people seemed to expect it. “Nah, no ‘special lady’ I’m afraid.”

Sam shook his head. “You’re such a good guy Dean, it’s amazing that you don’t have a girlfriend.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “Girlfriends just aren’t really my thing, you know?”

“Oh.”

Dean saw the hint of a smile at the corner of Sam’s lips but chose to let it go. If everyone thought he should have a girlfriend, maybe it was time he got one. That’s what normal people do after all.

“So uh, have you spoken to your shrink about any of this?” Dean said, raising his eyebrows.

All suggestion of a smile was gone from Sam’s face. “Dean, you know perfectly well I haven’t been to see a shrink.” When Sam’s girlfriend, Ruby, had been found in the burnt out remains of their kitchen Sam had taken almost a year off work. He’d fallen into bed with the first girl to be nice to him and moved in with her a month later. It had almost broken him. One of the conditions of his return to active duty was regular visits to a psychiatrist.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t need to see anyone. I’m fine!” Sam folded his arms and tried to stare Dean down.

“You’re far from fine, and you know they won’t sign off on a session unless you actually go to one. You’re about to break up with Amelia and you never really got over Ruby. I just think talking to someone would help.” Dean said.

Sam sighed and met Dean’s eyes. “If I go, swear you won’t ask me about it?”

“I swear,” Dean said with a grin.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam reached for his ringing phone and groaned as his hand hit a solid wall and he remembered he wasn’t in his own bed. He’d stayed at Dean’s last night since neither of them was in any state to drive him home. He could easily have got a cab but once he’d decided to break up with Amelia, he didn’t much want to go home anyway. He told himself he’d talk to her that night.

“Winchester,” he grunted into his phone.

“Sam, it’s Castiel. Did I wake you?”

“Yeah,” Sam said.

“Ok. Don’t bother going into the office this morning, we need you at a crime scene.” Such sympathy.

“Ok Sarge, no problem.”

“I’ll text you the location. See you soon,” Castiel said, and hung up.

“Eugh,” Sam said to himself, and threw the phone down beside him. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and dragged himself out of bed. The text message arrived moments later telling him the crime scene was in a forest outside town...he was going to need a ride.

It was 5.45am so there was no way in hell Dean would be awake. He padded barefoot to Dean’s door and pushed it open to find Dean lying on top of his sheets naked as the day he was born. Sam hesitated a little longer than he meant to before pulling the door closed and rolling his eyes.

“Dean!” Sam shouted through the door, “Wake up man!”

He heard Dean stirring and shouted again.

“Go away!” Dean shouted back.

“Can I come in?”

“No,” Dean said, but Sam heard him pull the sheets over himself and opened the door. Dean was lying with his eyes closed in the same position but was, thankfully, covered.

“Hey uh, can you give me a ride to a crime scene?”

“No,” Dean said without opening his eyes.

“Ok, then can I borrow the Impala?”

Dean paused. “Ok fine, I’ll drive you. Make me coffee.”

As Dean whipped his sheets back Sam turned his back as quickly as he could. “Dude!”

“Little Dean needs to breathe Sammy!” Dean announced, pushing Sam out the door.

-o-o-

Dean had fallen silent after Sam told them where they were going. It was still early and his coffee hadn’t kicked in yet. It took them three attempts to find the entrance to the forest but eventually they turned into a dirt road between the trees. It had once been a path for loggers, but it didn’t seem like it had been used much before this morning.

Dean pulled up in a clearing behind two squad cars and Novak’s Crown Vic.

“Go on ahead Sam, I’ll wait in the car,” Dean said. He looked wired, like he could do with getting out of the car for a while.

“Don’t be ridiculous. If there’s a body they’ll probably need you too. Come on,” Sam said giving his brother an encouraging push towards the door.

Dean blew out a long breath. “Fine, let’s go.”

Dean grabbed his forensics kit from the trunk and they followed the glare of the police floodlights into the trees. It wasn’t long before they found the police tape and the spectacle behind it. To Sam, it looked like a scene from a horror movie. About thirty garbage bags were arranged in a grid on the forest floor, each with a pile of what were obviously human bones on top.

“Oh my God,” Sam breathed. He glanced over at Dean who looked like he was about to throw up. “What the hell happened here?” he asked no one in particular.

A man in a brown forestry uniform behind the tape took a step towards them. “Some fucked up son of a bitch has been burying people here for years from the looks of it.” He glanced at the badge around Sam’s neck. “You Winchester?”

Sam nodded, unable to do much else.

“The rest of your team’s waiting for you over in the tent,” he said, pointing to a small white marquee beyond the piles of bones.

“Thanks,” Sam said and crossed the line to start picking his way through the garbage bags. He glanced back to discover Dean was not with him. “You coming?”

Dean looked incredibly pale in the harsh glare of the police floodlights. He had his hand on a tree and was taking deep breaths. “I can’t do this man. This is…” he stopped, unable to articulate the thought.

Sam glanced at the remains around him. He was used to seeing dead bodies but this was different. He had barely registered the thought that each one of these piles of bones represented a person. He nodded at Dean. “Why don’t you head home? I’ll get a ride back with Castiel.” The words had hardly left his mouth before Dean was jogging back to the car.

Sam joined the team inside the marquee and found Castiel amongst some uniformed officers and men in yellow vests.

“Hello Sam,” Sergeant Novak said when he spotted him.

“Hey. So uh…what the hell?”

Castiel edged his way out of the crowd and gestured at the scene outside with his clipboard. “At 10.30pm last night a Mister Garth Fitzgerald called 911 claiming he’d seen someone burying a body,” he read. “Uniforms got here within the hour. Mr Fitzgerald was unable to remember the exact spot, but they started digging where they believe the dirt looked freshest. They found remains they believed were too old to have just been buried, called it in, and these men from the coroner’s office have been digging all night.”

“Oh my God,” Sam exclaimed uselessly. “How many are there?”

“We count 28 skulls so for now, that’s the body count. Once all these are moved downtown we’ll get the dogs in to carry out another search.” He spoke with little inflection, as usual. Sam was always struck by his stoicism.

“Who are they?” he asked, trying to keep the fact that these were people at the forefront of his mind.

“Can’t tell,” Gabriel answered from behind them. “If we can find out which bones are freshest I might be able to get a bone marrow sample, but it’s unlikely. Every one was burned before they were buried.”

“Burned,” Sam breathed. “Burnt alive?”

Gabriel shook his head, “Impossible to say.” He held up a box and grinned at them both. “Doughnut?”

-o-o-

As soon as Sam got back to the station he went to Dean’s lab to fill him in. “There are at least 28 bodies there, can you believe it? Do you really think one person could have killed all those people?”

Dean shook his head. “No idea. Wouldn’t someone have noticed before now?”

“I guess… Or maybe they’re just really good at what they do.”

Dean almost smiled as he huffed out a breath. “Can this Fitzgerald guy identify the man in the woods?”

“He says he didn’t see the man’s face, but he’s coming in later to give a statement. He may have seen more than he realises.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully.

They sat in contemplative silence for almost a minute. Something had been playing on his mind. “These uh…these bones had all been burnt before they were buried.”

Dean shrugged. “And?”

“And…what if it’s the same person who killed Ruby?”

Dean sighed and gave him a sympathetic look. “Sam, you know—“

“Yes,” Sam interrupted, “I know the fire department said the fire wasn’t started deliberately, but come on Dean, she was lying on the kitchen table and there were drugs in her system! She would never have taken drugs.”

Dean didn’t bother replying. He just kept looking at Sam with that same sympathetic expression.

They’d had the same discussion hundreds of times but Sam could never relent. He’d never been happy with the official account. “Sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “I guess I still can’t stop thinking about it.”

“It’s normal. What happened was…” he shrugged, “no one’s fault. Having someone to blame just feels easier.”

Sam just nodded. He was going to find the person responsible for Ruby’s death if it killed him.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean’s driving had been more erratic than usual as he drove away from the crime scene. _His_ crime scene. They were digging up _his_ bodies. He had driven straight home and poured himself a glass of bourbon and tried to pull himself together. Someone had seen him and now the cops, his colleagues, knew what he had done.

The Demon had started making suggestions then. He could leave town and start up somewhere else. He could find out who the witness is and kill them before they spoke to the police...Dean pushed the thoughts aside and tried to think logically. There was no evidence that could lead back to him, he had made sure of it. It was unlikely the witness had seen his face; the noise he’d heard had come from behind, and he never used a flashlight. His eyes were used to the darkness.

He tried to keep calm and collected when everyone made it back to the station. Sam arrived first and came straight to the lab to fill him in. He recalled the story with a combination of wonder and horror, like someone describing a particularly bad car crash. He threw around words like “sick” and “monster” but there wasn’t much conviction behind it. Dean would hate for Sam to think of him as a monster, even if it was accurate.

Dean tried to keep his face neutral when Sam said the man who had seen him was coming in to give a statement, but The Demon gave a flicker of interest. “Can this Fitzgerald guy identify the man in the woods?”  Dean had asked. “He says he didn’t see the man’s face,” was Sam’s reply, and Dean just nodded as his imagination ran wild.

He almost growled when Sam suggested the same person could have killed Ruby as the people they’d found today. Sam had taken Ruby’s death very personally, and if he got that idea in his head, he wouldn’t stop until he found him.

A while after Sam had come to see him, Gabriel arrived leading a parade of uniformed officers. Each one was carrying several plastic boxes and evidence bags. Dean assumed they were full of the bones of the people he’d killed. Discreet Dean had been caught in the act and now his scraps were up for grabs. He felt a moment of resentment that someone else had found _his_ bodies but pushed it aside as pointless. He was finished playing with them, someone else may as well have a turn.

Gabriel ordered around the uniformed officers, telling them where to leave all the samples, and made his way over to Dean’s desk. He was beaming at Dean like he’d just won the lottery, not found a mass grave.

“You hear what happened?” he asked, still grinning.

“Judging by your face, I’m gonna say…you’re getting a promotion.”

Gabe laughed and clapped Dean on the shoulder. Dean tried not to look too pissed.

“Better! Looks like we have a serial killer on our hands.” He pointed at the evidence he’d brought back. “What do you say? Want to break a few bones with me?”

Dean hesitated. “Better not, I’m already swamped,” he said with a shrug.

“Suit yourself.”

Dean watched Gabriel as he put on some gloves, opened the first box and pulled out an intact rib. He was suddenly glad he left so few bones unbroken. It would be difficult to identify someone from just their bones, but broken and burned bones would make it damn near impossible.

Since he had just claimed to be ‘swamped’ he thought he should at least pretend to work. He spread out a couple of files from open cases, poked sporadically at the keyboard and stared at his computer screen. From this position he could still see Gabe, and he very much intended to keep an eye on him.

Gabriel tossed the rib back in the box after studying it for a few minutes and rummaged for another. He lifted out the skull and stared briefly at the charcoal that had once been hair before giving up and putting it back in the box as well. Dean almost sighed in relief when he closed the lid and moved onto the next box.

Dean was almost starting to relax by the time Gabe had repeated the process for the fourth time. His heart sank however, when Gabriel opened the fifth and visibly brightened. “Jackpot,” he muttered to himself.

Dean couldn’t hold himself back any more. He crossed the lab and looked over Gabe’s shoulder into the box of charred remains. It was immediately clear why he was so pleased. Most striking was the smell of smoke coming from the bones. It couldn’t have been more than a couple of weeks old. He glanced around at the different pieces to see if he could figure out who it was. On top of the pile alone he could see three intact bones. Strange.

“Hey Dean? Would you m-aahhh!” Gabriel actually jumped a few inches when he turned and found Dean leaning over his shoulder. “Why do you always do that?”

Dean grinned. “Sorry buddy. You know how much I love sneaking up on people.”

He didn’t know the half of it.

Gabe took a few deep breaths and recovered himself. “This guy’s pretty well intact. Can you help me get him on the table?”

Dean pulled over a wheeled metal table that had once belonged to the morgue and Gabe had commandeered when he’d covered every available surface with junk. Piece by piece, they started putting the person back together. Dean quickly realized it was a man. A man he had killed recently. It narrowed things down a little, but not enough.

Gabe stood back and smiled when the box was empty and they had a blackened skeleton almost fully constructed on their table. “Looks like someone stole his foot.” He said, pointing at the space where his left foot should have been, "Oh, and a hand!"

Dean’s breath hitched when he realized he was once again looking at Ephraim Holmes spread out on a table before him. The body was less than a day old and it was reasonable to assume the bone marrow could be preserved. He went back to his desk as Gabe made notes on the skeleton’s condition and injuries.

All pretense of work was gone as Dean stared blankly into space. He tried to comfort himself by planning how he would kill Gabriel if it became necessary, but even the Demon seemed too concerned to concentrate. The Demon’s Displeasure with Dean however, seemed to eclipse its annoyance at the intrusion.

When Dean was only 12, his father had discovered the Darkness inside him. He’d turned him into a Monster with Morals. Taught him how to clean up after himself. His job as a cop meant he knew what the police would look for when someone went missing, how they treated evidence, how far they’d go to look for bodies. John had been seeing people slip through the cracks in the legal system for years and he’d used Dean to fill in those cracks. “Don’t get caught” was rule number one.

He’d been in a hurry and he’d cut corners. The Demon’s back eyes narrowed in displeasure that he’d chosen to spend time with Sam rather than his playmate. Now it was going to bring about their downfall.

“Looks like whoever did this knows a thing or two about surgery,” Gabe remarked, pulling Dean from his reverie.

“Oh?” Dean said, “What makes you say that?”

Gabriel looked at him like he’d just asked the color of the sky. “Look how the bones are cut. They knew what they were doing. The joints are split perfectly.”

A smile crossed Dean’s face. He was extremely proud that he knew how to cut up a body spilling as little blood as possible; Gabriel however, didn’t need to know that. “Ok so…you think the killer is a doctor?”

Gabriel shrugged, “I just do facts and let the ‘real’ cops do the guessing.”

Dean huffed out a laugh he didn’t feel. All he could think about was the weight pressing on his chest and how small the lab suddenly felt. “I’m uh…going outside for a minute. Back in a few.”

“Dean,” Gabriel scolded, “Are you hiding something from me?”

“What? No!” Dean blurted out, before pulling himself together.

“I can smell it off you sometimes you know,” Gabe said, folding his arms, “I know you’ve been smoking.”

“Oh!” Dean said, more relief in his voice than he’d have liked. Smoking addiction. Whatever, that’s something normal people do. He put up his hands in surrender and half-smiled. “You caught me! Look, don’t tell Sam. He’d never forgive me!”

Gabe grinned in triumph. “You got it Dean-o. Don’t be long. I’ll want your help getting this guy back in the box when I’m finished.”

Dean nodded as he grabbed his jacket and rushed out of the lab. When he made it outside he leaned against the brick wall and threw his head back, taking a few deep breaths. The fresh mountain air infected his lungs after spending the day in his stuffy lab and helped him to think clearly.

For the first time, getting caught was feeling like a real possibility. The best police department in the state was suddenly investigating him. 

_Sam_ was investigating him.

Dean made a decision then to volunteer his services to the investigation. Round here he was the ‘blood guy’, but he was perfectly capable of helping Gabriel with more general forensics work. At least that way he could help steer the investigation in the direction he wanted it to go. And hey, maybe watching everyone else try to find a killer who’s right under their noses would be fun.


	5. Chapter 5

Garth Fitzgerald was a recluse who had lived in a cabin in the forest his whole life. The cabin had belonged to his parents. He’d inherited it when they died and had rarely left it since except for monthly supply runs. Somehow he had stumbled upon the mass grave in the woods for the first time last night.

He wasn’t what Sam had been expecting at all. The man sitting before him was calm, polite and social and his hair and clothing were clean and tidy. He looked like he was in his early twenties but what little information they had on him said he was closer to thirty. He looked more like a college student than a hermit.

“So,” Sam began, hands poised over the keyboard of the laptop open in front of him, “Why don’t you start by telling me what you saw?”

Garth nodded. “Well, I was out walking and smelled smoke so I went to see what was going on. I don’t need to tell you how dangerous a fire in a forest is.”

“Sure,” Sam replied with an encouraging nod.

“I found the remains of a fire smouldering in a clearing near where the bones were buried and that’s when I heard someone digging. I had just realised what he was burying when he saw me and I made a run for it and when I got back to my cabin I called the police.” He leaned back when he finished his story.

“Ok, great,” Sam said as he typed the answer. “The 911 call came in at 10.30, how long would you say it took you to get home?”

Garth thought about it, “Probably about an hour.”

Sam made a note. “The evidence seems to show that this isn’t the first time he’s done this. Is there a reason you’ve never stumbled upon him before?”

“I don’t usually go out walking at night and when I do, I don’t go that way.”

“You didn’t see a car?”

“No, but I heard one driving away. Sounded like my truck when I got a hole in the muffler,” he grinned.

“Can you describe the man you saw?”

“I didn’t really get a good look at him,” Garth said, shaking his head.

Sam was starting to worry this guy really hadn’t seen anything. He should’ve known it would be a dead end as soon as Castiel suggested he carry out the interview. “Please Mr Fitzgerald. Any detail, no matter how small, can help us catch this guy.”

He nodded and closed his eyes. “He was tall...not as tall as you though. Had sort hair. He was wearing jeans and a jacket. I think it was green, but there wasn’t much light.”

The interview continued in the same vein. Garth hadn’t noticed anyone strange in the area. He hadn’t noticed anyone going missing. He hadn’t seen or heard anything else.

After Garth left, Bobby called Sam to his office and listened in silence as Sam filled him in on the interview. “Do you think this guy’s involved?” Bobby asked.

Sam had considered it. He was intelligent, reclusive and well presented. He’d come across the scene in very unlikely circumstances and calmly recalled the details of a scene that would have phased plenty of seasoned cops. “Could be, but if he was trying to pin it on someone else I’d expect more details. He didn’t really see much.”

Bobby nodded. “Thanks Sam. Keep me posted.” He paused, considering his words before he went on. “Look, this could be a very big case. If Novak is pushing you too far don’t be afraid to tell him.”

“I won’t Bobby, I’m happy to do it.” It had occurred to Sam that he might be a little too eager to please, but a case like this could be a career maker. They didn’t have much to go on yet, but if he helped solve it, he could really make a name for himself.

“As long as you’re sure.”

Sam nodded.

“Anyway, that’s not why I called you in here. We got a hit on the guy who’s been vaporising people.”

“You serious? Someone recognised him?” Sam tried very hard not to bounce out of his seat.

“There was no need. We ran facial recognition and his driver’s licence popped. His name’s Ephraim Holmes. _Doctor_ Ephraim Holmes. He works at St. Anthony’s in the city.”

“A doctor? Jesus.”

“Yup. Thought you and Ellen might want to bring him in.”

“Yeah! God, yeah!” Sam leapt out of the chair and grabbed a confused Ellen as he ran through the office.

-o-o-

They didn’t find Ephraim Holmes at work or at home. He hadn’t shown up for work that day and his neighbours said they hadn’t seen him come home the night before. His co-workers had given Sam a few tips on the cafes and bars he frequented but there was no sign of him. It was like he’d got wind that the police were looking for him and bolted. Sam and Ellen went to tell Bobby what had happened and left Bobby to put out an APB and alert all the local authorities.

Sam left feeling dejected and went straight to Dean’s lab. He found Dean sitting at his desk while Gabe stared blankly at a refrigerator in the corner.

Dean smiled when he saw him and pointed to the chair beside his desk. “I heard they found the Jackson Pollock wannabe. You get him?”

“Nah,” Sam sighed, folding his arms, “He’s on the wind. Probably heard we were looking for him.”

“Sorry man,” Dean said with a sympathetic smile, “Don’t worry, you could still find him.”

“I hope so, but by now he’ll know the cops are after him. I shouldn’t have talked to his neighbours...” Sam moaned. “I really hope I haven’t fucked this up.” He was always worried about disappointing Dean, but wasn’t really sure why.

Dean just nodded. “So uh, how’d the interview with Fitzgerald go?” Dean asked casually.

Sam shrugged. “The guy didn’t see much. Just the remains of a bonfire, the back of a head and the sound of a car driving away.”

Dean nodded thoughtfully. “He didn’t see a car?”

“No,” Sam said, studying Dean’s face. Dean was good at noticing details others were likely to miss. He saw crime scenes from a different perspective; it’s his job after all. “You have a theory.”

“Nah, it’s nothing,” he said, waving a hand dismissively.

“Come on, tell me. It might help.”

Dean sighed and his face hardened. “Just drop it Sam, it’s nothing.”

Sam was treated to one of Dean’s cold glares. The one that always scared him as a kid and never failed to end a conversation even now. “Ok, fine.” He spun the chair around to speak to Gabriel. “Hey Gabe, had any luck identifying the bones?”

Gabriel turned and grinned. “Sure have! I got usable bone marrow samples from four of them. I’m running them now, should have the results by tomorrow.”

“That’s great news!” Sam said. He looked around at Dean who was still glaring. Can’t please everyone.

“Yeah,” Gabriel grinned. “Here, have some celebratory ice cream!” He opened the freezer beside him and pulled out a pint of cookies and cream.

“Um...don’t you keep pieces of dead people in there?” Sam said with a grimace .

Gabe looked at the freezer like it had never occurred to him before. “Yeah!” He tossed the ice cream to Sam along with a spoon.

Sam shrugged. When in Rome...

“You crashing at my place tonight?” Dean asked without looking away from his computer.

“Yeah. I’m gonna talk to Amelia after work,” Sam said and crammed a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

-o-o- 

When Sam arrived home, Amelia was mercifully absent. She wouldn’t be home for another hour which gave Sam just enough time to pack and pour himself a stiff drink. He sat down at the kitchen table and waited. He’d decided the kitchen would be the best place for their talk.

Sam’s breath hitched when he heard the front door open. “Sam? You home?” Amelia called.

Sam cleared his throat. “I’m in the kitchen. Can you come here for a minute?”

She appeared at the door seconds later. “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, I think it is. Will you sit down? I think we need to talk.”

Amelia’s eyes widened. “No.”

“What?”

“No. If I sit down you’re going to break up with me!”

Sam stood up and she took a step back. “I just think we need to take a break. Maybe a little time apart—“

“Oh don’t give me that Sam,” She said, folding her arms furiously, “Why don’t you just be a man and tell me what’s really on your mind.”

Sam looked down and considered his words carefully. No matter what he said, Amelia would see right through him anyway. May as well go with the truth. “We’ve become...stagnant.”

“Stagnant?” she repeated, indignant.

“I just mean the thrill is gone. We’ve fallen into a routine.” Sam shrugged helplessly. “This isn’t going the way I’d planned.”

“So, what? You’re leaving me because you’re bored?”

“Yes. I mean no! I think we just work better apart than as a couple.”

She sighed. “You know, my friends told me this would happen. We moved in together way too soon. We hadn’t gotten to know each other well enough. They’ll be thrilled to hear they were right all along!”

“I should go...” Sam muttered, looking around for the suitcase he’d packed.

“Where will you go?”

“I’m gonna stay with Dean for a while.”

Amelia rolled her eyes and threw up her arms. “Oh, of course! You’re leaving me for Dean! I can’t say I’m surprised. I’ve spent more time competing with him for your attention than other girls.”

Sam was briefly stunned into silence. He had no idea she felt like that. “He’s my _brother_ , of course I want to spend time with him.”

“There’s a difference between spending time together and the pathetic co-dependent relationship you two have. Or do you think it’s normal to start talking about your brother when you’re in bed with your girlfriend?” She raised her eyebrows like she was waiting for an answer.

“I don’t...I..we...” Sam spluttered.

“Just go, I don’t want to look at you any more. Get out.”

Sam nodded as he grabbed his suitcase. “I’ll call you,” he mumbled and shuffled out past her.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean sighed and rubbed his temples. Sam had been complaining at him since he picked his younger brother up from the house he’d shared with Amelia. Sam had dumped his suitcase in the guest room and came straight back out to Dean’s side to complain some more. “What did she *mean* by it?” “Didn’t she feel the same way?” “Would Riot be ok?” The questions just kept spilling out of him and eventually Dean interrupted and asked “You want a drink?”

Sam huffed out a laugh. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Dean went to the kitchen area of his open plan apartment and glanced back at Sam. Sam was watching him casually with his head tilted, looking more slightly more content than he had earlier that day. He grabbed two glasses and a bottle of whiskey and brought them back to the couch.

“Why don’t we order pizza?” Sam suggested as Dean poured them a glass each.

“What do you think this is? A sleepover? There’s steak in the refrigerator.”

“I don’t want steak,” Sam said with the same look he used to give their dad when they were 11 and 15, “I want pizza.”

Dean sighed loudly. He could have beat Sam down, but Sam was his guest and after all, humans treated their guests better than family. “Fine, do you know what you want or do you need a menu?” Dean asked like he didn’t already know exactly what Sam would want.

“Large Hawaiian with olives,” Sam said, as Dean would have predicted.

“I’m on it,” Dean replied and ordered the pizza from his cell.

He sat down on the couch beside Sam and lifted his glass to take a sip. Sam gave him a little smile and tilted his own glass towards him. “To being single,” Sam said before holding his glass out to Dean.

Dean snorted and obliged. “Being single.” They clinked their glasses and both took a drink. Dean held the liquid in his mouth for a moment, letting the burn pass and the rich taste settle on his tongue.

“So,” Sam said, a smirk forming on his face, “Ellen told me something pretty funny today.”

Dean groaned and swallowed his mouthful of whiskey. No doubt Ellen had told Sam about his ill-conceived plan to find a “special lady”. He’d run into Ellen in the kitchen at work and chosen that moment to put his plan into action.

“So uh…how’s Jo doing these days?” He’d asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible. Fortunately he’d had plenty of practise. Unfortunately, Ellen was a detective.

She narrowed he eyes and replied with a drawn out “why?”

“Just curious,” Dean said casually, “I was wondering if she’s been seeing anyone lately.”

Ellen had rolled her eyes and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Look Dean, you’re a nice enough guy. You’re good at your job and you don’t do anything stupid or disgusting in your spare time.”

Dean smiled half-heartedly.

“You’ll be a great catch for someone some day…but that someone sure as hell won’t be my daughter, you hear?”

Dean shuffled his feet and tried not to meet her eyes, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him. “Yes ma’am.”

“I’ve seen the way you flirt with every woman who comes through that door over there. You and your daddy are two peas in a pod, anyone ever tell you that?”

Dean had managed to keep his eye roll to himself. “Yeah, couple of people.”

“Look,” Dean told Sam, “It was just an idea. I always thought Jo and I had a little spark…clearly Ellen disagrees.”

Sam grinned, “I think the spark is the problem.”

Dean grinned back at him. “Anyway, I thought maybe I’d go to that bar she works in and try to ‘accidentally’ run into her.”

“Do you _want_ Ellen to shoot you?” Sam snorted and took a sip of his drink. “Where did this come from anyway? Just last night you told me ‘girlfriends aren’t really your thing’.”

Dean couldn’t exactly tell Sam he wanted a girlfriend so he could look more normal, so instead he said, “You just got me thinking. Maybe a girl would be good for me. I’ve been alone for a long time.”

Sam looked down and smiled, “You got me now.”

Dean couldn’t help smiling back at him, “Yeah well, sorry to break it to you Sammy but you’re not really my type.”

Sam made a noise somewhere between a hysterical laugh and a grunt of indignation. “Funny you should say that. When you said girlfriends wouldn’t your thing, I thought maybe you were trying to tell me you’re gay.”

Dean’s sexuality was something he’d never given much thought to. He understood it was a very big deal for people capable of love, but for Dean it wasn’t much of a consideration. People assumed he was straight and that was the role he played. It was easier that way. Straight people didn’t stand out so much. He was perfectly capable of arousal (he enjoyed it quite a lot in fact) but he had little concern for where the stimulation came from.

He gave Sam a dismissive wave of his hand. “Nah, not gay.”

“It just seemed to fit, you know? You flirt so much but I don’t remember you ever having a girlfriend for more than a day.” Sam said, studying his whiskey glass.

“You remember me having a boyfriend?” Dean said, sounding more defensive than he’d intended.

“Forget it,” Sam said and finished his drink. He picked up the bottle and topped off his glass before handing the rest to Dean.

The pizza arrived ten minutes later breaking the awkward silence into which they’d descended. They moved around each other in the kitchen fishing for hot sauce (that Dean insisted could improve any food) and beer from the fridge, bumping into each other and knocking over the empty bottles by the trash can. Dean had a brief moment of regret at letting Sam stay with him. His apartment was already cramped enough without another person taking up half of the space. But he pushed the thought aside, reminding himself that you look out for family.

Dean sat down on the couch with his pizza and beer and switched on the TV. He didn’t know what was on but it seemed to please Sam so he put down the remote and ate his pizza. If there was one thing Dean was good at, apart from killing people that is, it was eating. He wasn’t sure if he had a high metabolism or if stalking evil men and women burnt a lot of calories, but he was constantly hungry and never seemed to put on weight.

By the time he was halfway through his pizza, Sam was still on his first slice. “Something the matter?” Dean ventured, hoping Sam was just trying to make it last longer.

“Dude, I broke up with Amelia less than two hours ago. What do you think is the matter?”

Dean nodded. “Right, sorry.”

_I could always kill her_ , Dean thought briefly before he remembered how Sam reacted when Ruby was killed. Plus there was that whole pesky ‘not meeting John’s code’ thing.

“It’s not just that,” Sam went on.

Dean glanced hopefully at the television, hoping there was something there that could distract Sam long enough for him to change the subject. Commercials. Typical. “What else is bothering you?”

“Ephraim Holmes,” he sighed.

Dean bobbed his head in sympathy. Holmes would probably be keeping him awake that night as well but he couldn’t exactly tell Sam that.

“I really hope I haven’t messed this up. He would’ve been such a great collar if I hadn’t scared him off.” In typical Winchester fashion Sam had already decided to take the blame, even when there was no blame to be had.

“Sammy, you didn’t do anything wrong. You were following orders and the guy wasn’t where he was supposed to be. So what? Someone will track him down. They’ve got every cop in the state on it.”

“But what if they don’t?”

“I don’t know what to tell you man,” Dean sighed.

Sam smiled weakly. “That’s alright. I don’t think I know what I want to hear.”

Dean took a mouthful of his beer and leaned back into the couch. If he’d known it would cause Sam this much anguish he’d have let the police find Holmes themselves. He’d been arrogant, self-indulgent and impulsive (and all in one day) and it was going to cost him.


	7. Chapter 7

The Demon was mocking him. For two days and all weekend, every time Dean glanced in Gabe’s direction or checked his email for news he could almost hear the demon’s laughter. Every time he dared to hope the tissue samples would be unusable The Demon sneered and whispered “You’re not that good.”

By the time Tuesday came around, Dean was beginning to lose it. When Gabe walked into the lab with an armful of paperwork it was almost a relief.

“What you got there?” Dean asked, sounding as casual as he possibly could.

Gabriel smirked at him and sat down at his own desk. “Don’t try to act all nonchalant with me buddy. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking over my shoulder and sneaking through my in-tray. You’re just as interested in finding out who those people are as the rest of us.”

Dean raised his hands in mock surrender. “You got me. Well?”

“Got names on all four samples,” he grinned. “Why don’t you call in that moose of a brother of yours? I think if he has to wait any longer he’ll give himself an aneurism”

It was probably true. Sam had spent more time lurking in the lab in the past week than he had his whole career. He had called Dean at least four times a day ‘just in case the results had come in and Dean forgot to mention it,’ even at the weekend. It was a small miracle he wasn’t there already. Dean picked up the phone and dialled Sam’s extension. It barely rang once before he picked up.

“Dean? What is it?”

“The results a—“

“I’ll be right there.”

Dean sighed and hung up. “He’s on his way,” he told Gabriel.

Less than a minute later, Sam burst in the door of the lab. One of the benefits of having such long legs, Dean mused. Sam didn’t even acknowledge him before sitting down in the spare chair by Gabe’s desk.

Sam was apparently also trying to act casual, but it was a little late for that. “So uh…Dean said you have the results?” he said, with all the calm of a child on Christmas morning.

Gabriel looked confused. “What? Well he must’ve been mistaken.”

“Come on man,” Sam whined.

Gabe just smiled and handed Sam the four paper files containing the results. “You’re going to love the second one.”

Sam skipped the first folder and opened the second to the summary page. He looked up at Gabe with his mouth hanging open. Dean didn’t have to see the page to know whose name was on there.

“Ephraim Holmes?” Sam practically shouted. “Oh my God, this is…Dean!” he exclaimed, as though he was noticing him for the first time since entering the lab. “Ephraim Holmes!”

“Yeah, I got that Sam. I think half the building got it.”

Sam suddenly snapped his mouth shut and looked at Gabe. “You haven’t told anyone else these are here?”

Gabe shook his head. “I can keep it to myself for a while, but if anyone specifically asks, I’m going to need them back.”

“Sure. Sure,” Sam muttered as he got to his feet and rushed out the door calling a “thanks” over his shoulder.

“You got another copy of those names?” Dean asked when they were alone.

Gabe passed him a copy of the summary of each report. “Sure do! Although there’s no one else of note on there.”

Dean nodded and looked at the names. As he’d expected, Peter Azazel was one of the names. The other two were Dick Roman and Lilith Payne. The Demon stirred. That could be a problem.

Like Holmes, Lilith had had a run in with the cops before Dean got to her and that meant her name would be in the system. She’d been connected to the disappearance of three different men. Each time, witnesses had seen her talking to the victim in a bar, and each time she appeared to follow them out. With no other evidence, the police hadn’t been able to prove anything and she’d gotten away with it.

Dean however, had other ways of discovering the truth. He’d broken into her house and found video recordings of Lilith and her exploits. Every one looked like a sex tape gone wrong. Some poor guy was lured back to her home and allowed himself to be restrained before she abused them, raped them, mutilated them and, mercifully, killed them

Dean had used himself as bait. She delivered liquor to a number of local bars and he had learnt her route. He had known what to expect and Lilith never knew what hit her. He had repaid her in kind, minus the rape. (Perfectly Decent Dean was above such things)

Dick Roman could be an even bigger problem. He was a motivational speaker of some note, boasting three books and a plethora of self-help tapes and his disappearance had caused a PR shit-storm. Not that the public ever heard anything about that. “Moved to Europe to rejuvenate himself” was the official line from his people. No one asked many questions, but it didn’t do his book sales any favours.

The Demon had given him a warning when Dean started pursuing Roman, but Dean would have had trouble walking away from that one. He’d come to Dean’s attention when a number of girls had gone missing with very similar descriptions. As it turned out, Mr Roman had a type. Blonde hair, brown eyes, athletic, short and locked in his basement against their will. He’s used them until they couldn’t take any more, at which point he cut their throat and dumped their bodies in a trash compactor.

The only connection Dean had been able to find between the missing girls was that they’d attended Dick Roman seminars, so on a whim, he went to one himself. He couldn’t believe his luck when he saw Roman talking to a girl who matched that same description after the lecture.

Dean had taken great pleasure in dispatching Roman. He’s even managed to save the girl Roman had tied up in his basement at the time.

Sam returned to the lab half an hour later with detailed files on the four victims.

“How did you do this so fast?” Dean asked, genuinely impressed, if a little nervous.

“Just trying to finish up before someone else needs the files,” Sam shrugged. “So check it out. We already knew Holmes wasn’t exactly a model citizen,” he began, passing Holmes’ file to Dean, “but get this. Lilith Payne also had a few run-ins with the cops. She was connected to three disappearances but never convicted of anything.”

Dean looked up at Sam who was hovering beside his desk and shrugged. “So?”

“It’s a connection,” Sam said, not sounding as confident as he had when he first burst into the room. “We’ve investigated less,” he added defensively.

“And the other two were criminals as well?” he pushed, already knowing the answer. There was nothing about Azazel or Dick Roman that would suggest they were anything but pillars of society.

Sam deflated slightly. “Not exactly…but Ellen and I are going to go and talk to their families. They need some closure and maybe they can tell us something that isn’t on record.”

Dean sighed and tried to give Sam and encouraging smile. “Good luck Sammy, I’m sure you’ll find something.”

Sam nodded and left looking a lot less excited than when he’d gone in. Dean heard something that sounded a lot like a snort coming from Gabe’s desk.

“What?” Dean demanded, already feeling kind of guilty for killing Sam’s enthusiasm.

“Why couldn’t you let the kid have his theory? I hate seeing that big puppy looking sad.”

Dean ignored Gabe’s weird choice of words and shrugged. He hoped he hadn’t sounded too defensive. “I was just giving him another viewpoint. You know as well as I do that Bobby won’t investigate a ‘pattern’ of two people.”

“Whatever man, I just thought you might want to give your brother a little encouragement.

-o-o-

Dean pulls up outside the bar and parks as soon as he’s sure she’s there. He can see her through a small window in the door. She doesn’t suspect Dean is stalking her from outside, and why would she? His research has been careful and he staked out the building last night after she left. He pushes down an interested stirring from The Demon. “Not now,” he mumbles out loud. He doesn’t need The Demon’s help just yet.

He gets out of the car and makes his way to the door of the bar, avoiding the broken glass at his feet as the distinctive smell of urine assaults his nostrils.

He ignores her as he first enters the bar and she takes no notice of him either. He sits on a barstool where he knows she’ll have to see him eventually and orders a beer, asking the bartender to “keep ‘em coming.”

Just as he finishes his third bottle, his patience is rewarded. She sets a tray down beside him and starts taking off her apron before she glances in his direction. She looks again, her face showing recognition now. She smiles and he smiles back.

“Dean Winchester, what the hell are you doing here?” she grins, and places a hand on her hip.

Dean looks as innocent as is possible for him. “Would you believe I was in the neighbourhood?”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t stop smiling. It doesn’t matter that she doesn’t believe him. Dean doesn’t need her to.

“Your shift over?” he says casually. He already knows the answer, thanks to his research.

“No, I’m just on break,” she says. “You want to join me?”

Dean looks like he’s considering it. “Sure, why not?”

After five minutes of small talk, Dean finally hears the question he’s been waiting for. “So Dean, why are you doing this?”

The Demon perks up, preparing to answer, but is momentarily confused by the situation. Dean ignores it. “Doing what?”

“The way you just _happened_ to show up at the bar where I work, three miles from where you live? Don’t try to tell me that’s a coincidence.”

Dean sighed .“I just think you’re really sweet,” he conceded, “and I think we should spend more time together.”

She laughs, but doesn’t leave. “And what would my mom say about that?”

“I believe her exact words were ‘you’ll be a great catch for someone but that someone sure as hell won’t be my daughter.’”

She gives another laugh that Dean is beginning to find annoying. “Yeah, that definitely sounds like Mom. But you came to see me anyway? You don’t value your balls at all, do you?”

Dean shrugs and flashes her his million dollar smile.

She says nothing and looks him over. “You’re nice Dean, and attractive, and you have a cool job. But there’s something kind of dangerous about you.”

The Demon nudges him again. “You think I’m a bad boy?”

She pauses again before answering. “No, that’s not what I mean. There’s something…something different about you. It’s like you’re hiding something from the world.”

Dean is briefly taken aback and he senses the Demon’s smirk. He doesn’t know what to say and The Demon interjects. “Don’t we all?” he hears himself say, and Jo’s eyes snap up to meet his. “I’m just a little off because I spend so much time with dead people.”

She looks unconvinced, and slightly wary. “Ok Dean. I’ll go on a date with you, and I’m going to figure you out.”

Dean attempts a smile.

“Don’t look so worried,” she says, patting the arm he’s resting on the bar, “it might do you some good.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

Doctor ‘Call me Carol’ Cosby didn’t look much like a psychiatrist to Sam, but then he’d never met one to compare. Her blonde curly hair rested on her shoulders and she wore glasses that she occasionally removed to chew on the earpiece. She wore a blouse and sweater vest, but jeans and trainers. Her office was decorated more like a teenager’s bedroom, but it all made Sam feel somewhat at ease.

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you’re not ready,” she said gently. She sat back in her chair and gave him a sympathetic smile.

Sam was becoming more and more sick of people trying to handle him with kid gloves. The hands to his shoulder and tilted heads had never really felt comforting, but they had quickly become downright irritating. “No really, it’s fine. I guess I might as well tell you the details of why I’m here. Couldn’t hurt right?” She gave him an encouraging smile so he went on.

“Ruby and I met about three years ago.” Sam started.

“Ruby?” Carol said. “I thought your girlfriend’s name was Grace.”

Sam nodded. “Grace was her given name, but she went by Ruby. She didn’t talk about it much but she had a huge falling out with her family and moved across the country for a new life, so she changed her name.

“Anyway, I was a beat cop at the time and my partner and I were canvasing her building. One of her neighbours had been robbed or something and we were just checking for witnesses. As soon as she opened the door we had this instant connection, you know?”

Carol looked up from the notes she’d been scribbling and gave him a nod and a smile. “Oh yes.”

“It went against so many rules, but I just had to see her again, so I wrote my personal number on the back of my card and told her to call me. For the next three days the anticipation almost killed me, but finally she called and we went out.”

Carol smiled again. “Did you ever tell anyone how you met?”

Sam grinned sheepishly. “Only Dean, my brother. He yelled at me of course. Asked what Dad would have said. Told me in detail what Lieutenant Singer would do to me if he ever found out. To be honest, I think he was just jealous.”

Carol continued to write furiously as she said, “Why don’t you tell me about the relationship?”

Sam nodded. “Well, we went out for a year before moving in together. That was a little tough at first. She was a PA and I was a uniformed officer so there were times where we didn’t see each other for days, but I think it just meant we made the most of the time we had together.” Sam couldn’t stop his voice from cracking on the last word. He’d been thinking a lot about Ruby lately, but it was all hypothetical; how different his life might be if she was still alive. Talking about their time together was harder than he’d expected.

He took a sip of water and cleared his throat before continuing. “So uh, the day it happened,” he said, skipping ahead, “I was a newly appointed detective and I was trying really hard to impress Sergeant Novak. The guy was like a god to me and he and Dean were drinking buddies, so I really wanted him to like me. For some reason I thought the best way to do that was to work late every time he asked for volunteers. I was working late that night and Ruby was home alone.” He took a deep breath and gave Dr Cosby a look that said he didn’t really believe what he was about to say.

“It looks like she got hungry while watching TV and made herself a pizza. She must’ve decided to have a hot drink while she was waiting because she boiled some water too. Unfortunately she left a dishcloth too close to the stove which caught fire and set the rest of the kitchen alight…and she failed to notice any of that because she was so doped up on morphine she’d passed out. The fire department said she’d have been dead within minutes.” He spoke in the monotone of someone reciting a statement. He had read the report till he was blue in the face but it never made any more sense.

Carol clearly sensed his frustration. “But that’s not what you think happened?” she prompted.

“No.” he said simply and sighed. “I’m not entirely sure _what_ happened. I don’t believe for a second she had any kind of addiction. I’d have known…wouldn’t I?” He went on before she could answer. “And she was found on the kitchen table. I know it sounds stupid, but she was always yelling at me for sitting there. ‘Sam! People shouldn’t have to eat off anything that’s been touched by your ass!’ Plus, she didn’t drink tea and wouldn’t have made coffee that late.” He shook his head in frustration. “I think she was murdered.”

Carol just nodded noncommittally. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted, “but I think someone broke in, drugged her, started a fire and left her there to die.”

Carol began to speak but Sam raised a hand to silence her. “And no, I don’t have any evidence to support my claim, which is why I decided I’ll have to find the killer myself.”

Carol looked worried, but nodded anyway. “Finding her like that must’ve been very traumatising for you.”

Sam sighed. He would never forgive himself for agreeing to work that night but the fact that he hadn’t even been the one to find her made him feel even worse. “A neighbour smelled the smoke and called the fire department. By the time I got home there was nothing left but an empty black room full of people.”

“What happened afterwards?” Carol asked.

“Dean let me stay with him until I found a new place. I couldn’t afford the rent on the house by myself. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without him. Sometimes I feel like he’s the only good thing in my life. He was the one who talked Bobby into letting me return to work.”

Carol nodded again, not lifting her head from her notes. “How has it been since you went back?”

“Fine,” Sam shrugged. “I like having something to do all day. I even met another girl, Amelia. We’ve broken up now though. Things had gotten kind of boring.” He paused, not really knowing what else to say. “Um…we just got a really big case last week.”

“Can you talk about it?”

Sam thought for a moment. “I guess I can tell you the parts that have been released to the press. We found a mass grave with more than thirty bodies in it. Only four of them could be identified and their names have been released…but that hasn’t stopped the families of every missing person from the last fifteen years calling to ask if we found them. There’s nothing to connect the victims and the only lead we have is a vague description from a hermit who saw him in the dark.”

Carol must have read something in his face, “You have a theory though?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s nothing really, but two of the victims are connected to other cases. And…the bodies were all burned and it kind of made me think of Ruby. Dean shot both those theories down almost immediately.”

“You really respect your brother’s opinion, huh?”

Sam smiled fondly. “He’s everything to me right now. If I can’t count on him…then I’m screwed.”

-o-o-

When Sam walked through the door of Dean’s apartment the smell of Dean’s cooking almost knocked him over. He followed his nose over to the kitchen and inhaled the smell of lasagne and French fries.

“What’s this for?” he asked, causing Dean to jump and drop half the basket of fries on the floor.

“Jesus Sammy! How can someone so big move so quietly?” Dean said before crouching to take the lasagne out of the oven. “I just thought I’d cook you something in aid of your first head shrinking session.” He gave him a look over. “Still looks as huge as ever, you sure she’s a real doctor?”

Sam gave him a playful fist to his arm.

“Seriously though mane, I’m proud of you for finally going.”

Sam grinned, “Thanks! I’m proud of me too.”

“How’d it go?”

“Fine,” Sam shrugged, “She says I’ll be okay, but I still have to go for a session every two weeks for a while.”

“That’s great Sam,” Dean said with a sincere smile.

Sam put an arm around Dean’s waist and pulled him into a sideways hug. “Thanks for making me go.”

Dean huffed out a laugh. “I’m not your wife dude; I don’t need any sugar before I’ll make you dinner.”

Sam pulled his arm away, suddenly feeling awkward. He took a step back and tried desperately to think of a come-back. That’s when he noticed how careful Dean was being not to drop anything on his shirt. “Are you going out somewhere?” he asked.

Dean turned and gave Sam a grin. “I got a date!”

“What? With Who?” Sam demanded more forcefully than he intended.

“With Jo Harvelle," Dean said, his grin widening.

“What?” Sam said again, “Does Ellen know?”

“Nope!”

“She’s going to kill you. You know that,” Sam said entirely seriously.

“I’ll worry about that if she ever finds out.”

Sam’s stomach twisted slightly. He was staying with Dean to help him get over Amelia, now Dean was going off on a date? The unreasonable part of his brain was saying ‘How dare he go on a date while I’m getting over my ex!’ but when he realised how jealous that would sound he said “I…hope you have a good time.”

“Thanks,” said Dean, sounding unconvinced.

They ate dinner sitting side-by-side on the couch chatting about inconsequential things and flicked on the television before Dean announced it was time for his date. Sam begrudgingly wished him good luck and settled down for an evening of trashy TV.

At some point he must have dozed off because when his phone rang, it startled him awake. Ellen was calling him.

“Winchester,” he answered trying not to sound as groggy as he felt.

“Hey Sam, you busy?” Ellen said, not sounding much brighter than Sam felt.

“Nah, I’m just watching TV. What’s up?”

“Novak called, he needs assistance at a crime scene. I’m on my way there now, can I swing by and pick you up?”

Considering the alternative, Sam thought he may as well. “Sure, I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

By the time they got to the address, there were already two uniformed cars, two unmarked police cars, Dean’s Impala and (most unsettling) three fire engines. They’d been able to see the flashing lights from two streets away.

“What the hell?” Ellen muttered to herself as she parked her car.

“This looks bad,” Sam added unnecessarily.

As they got out of the car, Castiel rushed over to meet them. “Go on inside Ellen, someone will be able to bring you up to speed.”

As Sam went to follow her, Castiel put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. “I’m sorry Sam, I shouldn’t have asked her to call you but…I hadn’t seen…” he trailed off.

Sam’s heart rate doubled. “What is it Cas? What’s in there?”

Before he had a chance to answer, Dean approached them looking white as a sheet.

“Dean? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Sam said, feeling even more concerned.

Dean’s expression didn’t falter. “Maybe I have. Sam, don’t go in there. It’s…it’s impossible. It’s too similar. It can’t be real.”

Sam was starting to get a fairly good idea of what had happened. He pushed the two men aside and made for the front door of the house. The smell of smoke mixed with charcoal and water was all too familiar, but that was nothing compared to the scene that greeted him in the kitchen. Everything was the same, right down to the pizza in the oven.

He turned around to find Castiel standing right behind him, his face showing nothing but sympathy.

“Who…?” was all Sam could manage.

“It’s too soon to tell,” he replied, sensing the unasked question. “Come on. Let’s get you out of here.”


	9. Chapter 9

Just Over A Year Ago

Just as the band finishes their third song, Dean leans over to Charlie’s ear and shouts, “I’m just going to the bathroom. If I lose you I’ll meet you out front after, ok?”

She gives him thumbs up and smiles, already bobbing her head to _South of Heaven_. Dean pats her shoulder in the affectionate way he has seen people do and starts to weave his way back through the crowds of people pressing towards the stage. He bypasses the queue for the bathroom and heads straight for the exit. He makes his way to the presently deserted parking lot and finds his car exactly where he left it.

The stakes are higher than usual and he realises he’s unusually nervous. The drive is one he’s made countless times before, so he allows himself to run over the plan once more. He’d had to plan a lot more than usual and had waited weeks for the right time. Her boyfriend is still trying to impress at his new job and agreed to work late. He won’t be home until after midnight, and he knows she’ll be alone all evening.

He drives to a deserted alleyway a few streets away from her house and parks before getting out of the car. He glances towards the trunk and considers bringing his tool bag, but he dismisses the idea and starts walking towards the house. As he gets closer, he sees a light at the front of the house. She’s in the living room as he’d expected. So far, everything is going to plan. He turns down the side of the house and slips around to the back door where he plans to make his entrance.

He checks his watch; it’s only 9:05pm which means he has about two hours to finish up and get back to the concert. He shouldn’t need anything close to that; this job is going to be very basic.

Gently turning the handle on the kitchen door, he focuses on his breathing and takes a quiet step into the house. There’s no need to close the door behind him and risk making a sound, so he pads across the tiled floor towards the hallway. He can hear her then, laughing at some stupid joke on the TV and plunging her hand into a bag of chips. He pushes the living room door open as slowly as he can and peers into the room. Her head is visible over the top of the couch and luckily she is far too focused on the TV to notice him standing mere feet away.

He finally emerges from the shadows and closes the gap between them. She barely has time to react when he wraps one hand around her throat and injects a tranquiliser into her neck. She hits his arm and grabs for her throat but by then it’s too late and within seconds she’s unconscious.

Dean knows this isn’t going to be a regular killing for him, so he doesn’t bother to prepare the room. He carries her limp body to the kitchen and lays her down on the table. She won’t be in much of a state to escape when she wakes up after the dose he gave her, but to be on the safe side, he restrains her to the table using some Saran Wrap he found in a drawer.

He stares down at her still body and can’t help but scowl. He’d waited months for this opportunity, learning her and her boyfriend’s schedule and ensuring he had an alibi. Grace Vargas is her name. Her _real_ name. She’s gone by others and has been many things to many people. In the past few years she’s been wife to two men who probably couldn’t believe their luck. Both had died only a few months into the marriage and both had left everything to her. Their families had pointed fingers, but by the time the police realised anything suspicious had happened she was already someone new. Dean is determined to make sure she can’t do it again.

While he waits for her to come to, he finds a pizza in the freezer and puts it in the oven. Then he fills the kettle with water and puts it on the stove. By the time the room is starting to fill with steam, he hears her stirring and moves the kettle off the heat.

He stands above her head to watch her open her eyes and realise she’s stuck. She’s groggy, but immediately aware that something terrible is about to happen to her. She looks around the room in a panic and finally sees Dean leaning against the kitchen cabinets.

“Dean?” She says with genuine fear in her voice. “What happened?”

He doesn’t move so she has to keep twisting her neck at an uncomfortable angle to see him. “Some guy came in here, knocked you out and tied you to the table by the looks of things,” he says calmly.

“Will you help me out of here?” She says slowly. His face must tell her she’s looking for help in the wrong place, for she immediately starts looking around the room for another way out.

He lifts a dishcloth off the rack and stands beside her face, giving her a considering look. Before she can say anything else he puts a hand on her forehead to hold her still and injects a 20mg syringe of morphine straight into her jugular vein. She tries to struggle but has so little movement it doesn’t make any difference.

“What the hell was that?” She shouts, not really in the position to make demands.

“Relax, it was just morphine,” he tells her. “In a couple of minutes you’ll be feeling really good about everything.”

“Are you going to rape me?” She says quietly.

Dean is genuinely taken aback by the question. Is that the impression he gives? “No. I’m not a rapist,” he tells her.

“Then why are you doing this?”

Dean flashes her a grin. The question helps to clear his head. “I know what you’ve done Grace…”

Her eyes snap to his face as soon as she hears him use that name.

“You might have slipped past the police, but then…I’m not the police. I have other methods.”

“It’s not what you think Dean!”

“I think you convinced two old men you loved them enough to marry them and stole their money as soon as they kicked it.”

“No!,” she says, panic in her voice, “I really loved them, it was just a coinci--”

“Save it bitch,” he growls, “I guess that’s why you used fake names and made a run for it as soon as you had their money? That right, Faith? Or would you prefer Amy? Or were you planning on sticking with Ruby from now on?”

She heaves out a sigh, knowing she’s defeated. She tries a new tactic. “Dean, please don’t do this. What about Sam?”

“You think I’m going to let you kill him too?”

She rolls her eyes. “You fucking idiot! I really do love him! This isn’t a scam. You’re seriously going to kill me because you think Sam’s in danger?”

“I’ve killed for a lot less,” Dean says with a shrug.

That shuts her up. Dean recognises the look in her eyes that means she’s given up. She knows she won’t escape now, but she gives it one last try. “Please Dean,” she says with tears in her eyes, “I know you’re not a bad guy, you don’t want to do this.”

“Well then you don’t really know me at all, do you?” he almost laughs. As she starts screaming for help, he injects another two syringes of morphine into her neck and waits for her to pass out. Her small frame means it doesn’t take long and when he’s satisfied she won’t be waking up again, he cuts off the Saran Wrap.

He does one final sweep of the kitchen to make sure he hasn’t left any evidence before tossing the dishcloth on the stove. “See you in Hell bitch,” he mutters as he pulls the door closed behind him.

He waits outside the window long enough to make sure the adjacent cupboards catch fire and briefly mourns the pizza that is going to get burnt. Watching the flames engulf the kitchen is already giving him back his sense of calm. The room is already full of black smoke and he really wants to stay and watch her die, but he has to get back to the concert before it ends. He sighs and heads back to the car.

He makes it back to the concert just in time to hear the final two songs from the back of the hall. He had checked the set list and read reviews from earlier in their tour so he’s ready for Charlie’s barrage of questions on the journey home.

“There you are!” she says when she finds him standing outside. “You have a good night?”

“Awesome,” he says with a genuine smile.

-o-o-

Now

Dean was on his way to pick up Jo when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and when he saw it was Castiel, he pulled over.

“Winchester,” he answered.

“Dean, it’s Castiel. Are you busy?

Dean sighed quietly, “Not yet Cas. Why? What’s up?”

Castiel sighed as well and said, “I’m on my way to a crime scene and I need someone to come and do a forensics sweep.”

“Isn’t that more like Gabe’s job?” Dean said, not feeling as frustrated as he sounded.

“Mmhmm,” Castiel growled. “However, Gabriel gave me an all-too-detailed explanation of why he couldn’t make it…I’d rather not go into it.”

Dean snorted. “Okay Cas, I just need to make a phone call and I’ll be there ASAP. Text me the address.”

“Thanks Dean,” Cas said and hung up.

Dean called Jo straight away and explained the situation.

“That’s okay Dean, but the next date better be twice as good to make up for it,” she said, not sounding too upset.

Dean laughed, “Maybe next time I’ll be telling Cas the ‘all-too-detailed explanation’ of our date to get out of overtime.”

“Let’s hope so,” Jo laughed.

Dean hung up with a groan. He checked the address Cas had sent and started driving in that direction. It was a street in one of the more residential parts of town, but he had been there before and found it easily.

He was immediately struck by the flashing lights that illuminated the street with a red and blue glow. He was well used to encountering police cars when he arrived at crime scenes, but the fire engines were quite a novelty. He pushed aside his excitement at the prospect of meeting firefighters and reminded himself he had a crime scene to investigate.

He grabbed his kit from the trunk of the car and made his way towards the house. As he flashed his identification and crossed the police like, he felt the Demon squirm uncomfortably. Dean did his best to ignore the feeling and continued inside the house.

As soon as he saw the start of the room, he stopped dead in his tracks. He was vaguely aware of someone speaking beside him but he didn’t hear a word of it. He could see the first few kitchen cupboards, looking more like charcoal, and the wall above it blackened by smoke.

 _It’s just a burnt out kitchen_ , he told himself, _it doesn’t mean anything_. The Demon was less than convinced.

He took another couple of steps so he could see a little further into the kitchen. A tremor running through his body almost made him drop his forensics kit. He was able to see the stove and the remains of a kettle sitting on top of it. He would bet his car on there being a pizza in the oven too.

He could feel the Demon’s satisfied smirk of _I told you so_. It was like the Demon had known this would happen.

He tried to settle his breathing and took the final few steps into the kitchen. As he’d expected, there was a blackened corpse on the kitchen table with a medical examiner standing over her. Dean shuffled over to the man’s side and set his kit on the floor.

“Sorry, excuse me?” Dean said, trying to keep his voice calm, “If you don’t mind me asking, did you find any drugs on the scene?”

The medical examiner glanced at the laminate around Dean’s neck before answering. “There isn’t any drug paraphernalia in the room or the rest of the house as far as we can see, but I did find puncture wounds on her neck, so I’d say it’s likely I’ll find something in her system.”

Dean felt like vomiting. He nodded his thanks to the medical examiner and went back into the hallway to steady himself against a well. It was too similar to be a coincidence. Dean sighed. Who was he kidding? It was identical. He started listing off the people who could have done this. Who knew the details well enough to recreate it so perfectly? There was Sam, the fire fighters who attended the scene, the cops…that was all he could think of.

The Demon have him a gentle nudge and reminded him that the important question was not “Who?” but “Why?” It was clearly trying to send a message, but to whom? Him? Sam? Leaving it here for Sam to find would be particularly cruel, but he doubted anyone could have known it was Dean who created the original. His breath was becoming more and more shallow as each thought came to him. He could tell someone was speaking to him, but he was finding it difficult to focus. A hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

“Dean? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Castiel’s intense blue eyes were searching his face for a trace of sanity. Dean shook himself. “Yeah, fine,” he said automatically. “I mean…No, not fine.”

“What is it?” Cas asked with concern in his voice.

“The kitchen. It’s exactly the same…It’s exactly how Ruby was found.

Cas dropped his hand and took a step back. “ _Sam’s_ Ruby?”

Dean nodded.

Castiel ran a hand through his already messy hair. Dean saw a hundred scenarios play out on Castiel’s face. “Oh my god,” he said, looking bemused, before snapping back to Sergeant Novak. He looked up at Dean. “Okay, Sam’s on his way here with Ellen. I’ll try to intercept them but keep an eye out just in case. He doesn’t need to see this.”

Dean nodded again. He hadn’t even considered how Sam was going to react. He’d spent the past year trying to convince Sam that Ruby hadn’t been murdered, but this seemed like pretty good evidence that she had. He wondered briefly who the woman in the kitchen was and who would be affected by her death.

“There’s Sam,” Cas said, rushing past. “Henriksen! Call singer and tell him how the situation has changed,” he called as he went outside.

Dean have himself a shake and took a couple of deep breaths before following him out. Ellen gave him a nod as they passed on the porch. He could see Sam and Cas talking by Ellen’s car and he floated towards them in a kind of trance.

“Dean?” Sam said when he approached. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Dean almost laughed. “Maybe I have. Sam, don’t go in there. It’s…” he almost forgot it was about protecting Sam. “It’s impossible. It’s too similar. It can’t be real”

Before he could stop him, Sam pushed past and headed for the house.

“Shit,” Cas muttered and followed Sam through the front door.

Dean leaned against Ellen’s car and tried to gather his thoughts. Someone had managed to recreate Ruby’s death exactly, and did it where he and Sam would find it. If it was a message for him, why did they choose that kill and not one of the countless others? What was so special about that one?

Dean realised the answer to both questions and scrubbed a hand across his face. It was personal.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean and Sam leaned side by side against Ellen’s car as nervous looking officers offered to bring them coffee or call someone to come and get them. Both had refused and Dean said he would take Sam home…just as soon as he gathered his thoughts and the nausea passed.

Neither was sure what to say to the other so they stood in silence. Dean’s head was full of ideas of who could have done this and why, and judging by the look on his face, Sam was wondering the same. He couldn’t decide who it was more likely directed at. If it had been a message for Dean then surely they would have replicated his usual style instead of a one off (assuming they knew about the rest). It almost seemed more likely it was all for Sam. After all, he’d only had one girlfriend killed by his brother. For some reason, Dean’s ego was having trouble accepting that theory.

Dean had been ignoring the Demon since he first saw the scene, but he gave in now to its stirring. From the Demon’s point of view it seemed pretty clear. Someone else’s demon was asking, “Wanna play?”

“Are you ready to go yet?” Sam asked, pulling Dean’s attention back to the scene around them.

Dean blew out a breath and nodded. “Sure, yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

By the time they were leaving, the street had cleared significantly with only one patrol car and a few unmarked fire and police cars remaining. Castiel caught Dean’s eye as they were getting into the car and mimed, “Call me in the morning.”

“I was right…” Sam murmured, more to himself than Dean. The privacy of the car on the drive home made Sam much more talkative.

Dean would have preferred the silence. “Huh?” he said.

“I was right. Ruby was murdered.”

Dean kept his voice as neutral as he could. “It might just be a coincidence,” he said, not really expecting Sam to believe what he said.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on Dean. Can’t you just admit it now?”

Dean’s heart skipped a beat before he realized what Sam meant. “Okay, yeah. You’re right. It definitely looks like murder now.”

“It looks like a serial killer,” Sam mused. “That crime scene was exactly the same. Ritualistic, right?”

Dean nodded. It certainly would look that way from the outside. “You think it’ll happen again?” Dean asked. He honestly didn’t know. If he didn’t have the correct reaction, would they find another identical scene?

“Yeah, probably,” Sam replied after a beat. “I guess he waited to see if he got away with the first murder before trying another.”

 

By the time they made it back to the apartment it was almost midnight.

“I’m going to get some sleep so I can get to the station early tomorrow,” Sam said as soon as they made it inside, and turned towards his bedroom.

Dean caught him by the shoulder and turned him around. “Are you kidding? You’re not going anywhere tomorrow.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Why not?” He folded his arms and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Dean didn’t know why exactly Sam should stay home. He just knew it was something people did when they had a shock and it sounded like a good idea. He threw together a few sentences he usually heard people say about stuff like this. “You’re in shock. You’re just running on adrenalin and you’re going to crash. You won’t be any use to anyone if you go to work anyway.”

Sam shook his head. “Nice try, but I have work to do on the South Valley Firebug case. Plus, I’ve already looked into Ruby’s murder so I can tell them where to start!”

“Two things,” Dean said. “One, South Valley Firebug?”

“What the press are calling him,” Sam shrugged.

Dean rolled his eyes. He hated when the press gave serial killers nicknames. And he’d have picked something much cooler himself. “Two, _you_ don’t know where to start with Ruby’s case.”

“Okay, well, I can tell them where not to start!” Sam held his stance, looking defiant.

Dean sighed. “Fine, but you’ll never get any sleep if you go to bed this tightly wound.”

“Fine,” Sam said eventually.

Dean took a detour by the kitchen to get a bottle of bourbon and some glasses. “Drink?” he asked as he sat down on the couch.

“Sure,” Sam said, putting his hand out for a glass. Dean poured in a shot of whiskey. “A double,” Sam added with a grin.

Dean topped up Sam’s glass before filling his own. Sam sat beside him on the couch… _right_ beside him. Their thighs and shoulders were touching and he could practically hear Sam breathing. Ordinarily he would have shuffled away, but Sam had had a traumatic day and perhaps he needed a little human contact. That’s what humans do in times of crisis after all.

They drank in silence for a while as Dean went over the day’s events again. None of it made much sense and it was going to take a lot of work to find a lead. He hoped he’d be able to fine some evidence at the crime scene tomorrow, but it was likely most of it had been destroyed in the fire (if the killer had even left any). Perhaps the victim’s ID would help shed some light on the situation.

He glanced sideways at Sam and found him staring straight ahead, hardly blinking. Dean put a hand on Sam’s thigh. “You okay Sammy?”

Sam looked back at him and blinked a few times as if he’d just remembered how. “Actually…I think I am.” He paused before adding, “I’ve spent the last year wondering if I was being paranoid or delusional about Ruby’s death. I just couldn’t believe any of the evidence, and now here’s proof that she was murdered!”

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam’s use of the word “murdered”.

“Does that make me a terrible person? Taking pleasure in some poor woman’s death?” Sam asked, misinterpreting Dean’s expression.

Dean absent-mindedly moved his hand back and forth across Sam’s leg. “Of course not. It’s totally understandable.” It probably wasn’t the best reaction for a cop to have to a murder, but who was he to judge?

“Thanks,” Sam said, staring into his glass. He placed his hand on top of Dean’s for the briefest of moments before downing his drink and jumping to his feet. “G’night Dean.”

“Night Sam.”

-o-o-

It turned out Sam wasn’t kidding. Dean had awoken that morning at 6am with Sam standing over him, coffee in hand.

“This is for you, now get up and get dressed. I need a ride,” Sam had said before setting the mug on the bedside cabinet and high-tailing it out of there. That’s when Dean had realized he was lying face-down and totally naked on top of his sheets.

San had chatted the whole way to the station about the ideas he’d somehow been working on in the middle of the night. Dean barely heard a word of it. He was too busy trying to keep his eyes open and not get them killed.

For some inexplicable reason, Castiel was already there when they arrived at 7am.

“Sam, Dean,” he greeted them, looking a little surprised.

Sam gave him a small nod before heading for his desk.

“What is he doing here? He isn’t expected to work after last night,” Cas said, looking accusingly at Dean.

“Hey, don’t look at me Cas, I tried to get him to stay home, but he’s a grown man. I couldn’t force him!”

Cas gave a resigned nod. "Keep an eye on him, and if he looks like he’s even thinking about getting stressed, take him home.”

“You got it Sarge,” Dean said, and headed for his lab. Since he was two hours early, he might as well get some work done.

He spent the morning typing up reports for some lower priority cases, and even made a start on some of Gabriel’s. By the time Gabe arrived his in-tray was totally empty. He convinced Gabe to take him to the crime scene by offering to drive. Gabe just rolled his eyes and said, “Somehow I knew you’d be sticking your big nose in this one.”

He wasn’t really sure what he was looking for in the woman’s house. He had a feeling the murderer wouldn’t have left so much as a hair behind.

He lurked around the kitchen for a while, checking the knobs on the stove for prints and checking the blackened floor for footprints, but eventually he left Gabe to it and went to take a look around the rest of the house. It was fairly unremarkable. Apart from the kitchen, there was a living room and a dining room downstairs and two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs.

He wandered into the woman’s bedroom. Kate, they’d said her name was. He took a look at some photographs on the walls but saw nothing unusual. He checked under her bed and a couple of drawers, and looked for all the normal hiding places, but there was nothing out of place in the whole room.

He stood in the middle of the floor with his hands on his hips, checking to see if he’d missed anything obvious. He couldn’t help noticing how tidy the room was. There was absolutely nothing out of place. It almost reminded him of his own room. The woman hadn’t known she was going to die. She lived alone and it didn’t seem like she’d had visitors, so it seemed strange to Dean that she would clean it so meticulously. He made a mental note to mention it to someone.

That’s when he realized what he’d been missing. Or rather, what was missing from the room. He walked right up to the wall to get a closer look, confirming his suspicion. Among the framed pictures on the wall were several gaps where more pictures would logically go. Each one had a little hole in the middle where a nail used to be. That was definitely suspicious. He took a quick picture with his phone and headed back downstairs.

“Anything?” Castiel asked when Dean joined him in the kitchen.

“Not really,” Dean shrugged, “though her room is spotless. There’s not a thing out of place. It’s a little weird for someone who lives alone.” He was sure someone else would notice the missing pictures, but for now, he wanted to keep that part to himself.

Castiel just nodded, taking it in. “I got the case report from the fire that killed Sam’s girlfriend and you’re right, it’s identical. Right down to the opiates in the woman’s system and the pizza in the oven.”

Dean couldn’t help the shiver that went through his body. It felt like such an invasion of his privacy.

Castiel studied him for a moment. “Are you sure you want to be here?” he asked sounding genuinely concerned.

Dean gave himself a shake. “I’m fine, don’t worry. Did you check to see if anyone else had checked out that file?”

“Of course. The only one who checked it out in the last year was Sam.”

Dean nodded. He knew it wouldn’t be that easy but it was worth asking. He doubted Sam would have it in him to kill someone like that…but then Sam would probably have said the same about him. “What have you got on the victim?”

Cas sorted through the files he was carrying, looking for a particular printout. “Her name is Kate Milligan. She was 44 years old. Works as a nurse at Rose Med. Single mom with a son at college in Wisconsin. He’s been contacted about the death and he and an uncle are coming to make arrangements.”

Dean considered the mostly useless information. “So she’d have access to the drugs found in her system?”

“They’re heavily controlled,” Cas told him, “She couldn’t have taken the amount she needed without anyone noticing.”

Dean huffed out a breath. It wasn’t his job to worry about stuff like this and he was lucky Cas was willing to indulge him. He couldn’t help feeling like he was off his game. The whole situation had left him shaken and the Demon seemed more interested in mocking him than pointing him in the right direction.

Cas was giving him that concerned look again. “Why don’t you go back to the station? I’ll let you know if we find anything and you can check on Sam.”

Dean considered the suggestion for a moment before he conceded. All he was doing was getting in the way and if he was lucky, he might be able to talk Sam out of investigating this case and shift his focus to the other big case. He’d be investigating Dean either way, but at least it would be easier to throw him off the trail of the ‘South Valley Firebug’.

Dean rolled his eyes again at the nickname before driving himself back to the station.


	11. Chapter 11

Gabriel hadn’t been too thrilled when Dean told him he was leaving without him, but it was sergeant’s orders. Plus Dean was eager to get back to the lab. Some forensic dentists had been called in and were due to arrive that afternoon, and Dean was hoping to be there to see what they were able to salvage.

It had occurred to him on the drive back that the missing pictures in Kate’s house were most likely pictures of her son. Her son was off at college and as far as they knew, there was no rift between them. It was extremely suspicious, and Dean hoped he would have time to look into it before anyone else noticed. He estimated a day’s head start, but he was sure someone like Cas would notice they were missing given the chance.

When Dean sat down at his desk, he did something he had rarely done before. Opened Facebook. He had started a special account for lurking on potential victims, a mostly anonymous account with a gender neutral name and a profile picture he could change out as necessary. Since the subject was already dead, he supposed the busty blonde in the photo wouldn’t matter too much. He did a search for “Kate Milligan” and after three attempts, found the right one. Apparently, word of her death hadn’t made it to her friends yet, for her profile looked perfectly normal with no tribute messages at all. Of the pictures available publicly, Dean soon found a picture of what he assumed was Kate and her son at his High School graduation. Adam, according to the caption.

He leaned back and looked through some other pictures. There was nothing particularly noteworthy about any of them. Both Kate and Adam seemed perfectly normal, but as Dean well knew, it was easy to look normal even when you weren’t. He clicked next on Adam’s profile which like Kate’s, was mostly private. He was able to look at his profile pictures and found a more up to date photo which looked like an entirely normal college student. He was beginning to feel like he’d hit a dead end, so on a whim, he added Adam as a friend and went to make some coffee.

As he walked through the bullpen, he gave a little wave to Sam who was sitting in the middle of a mountain of files. God knows what he was researching, but as long as it kept him busy… He walked past Ellen’s desk and gave her a small nod and received a death stare in return. Uh oh.

“Everything okay Ellen?” Dean said, already knowing the answer.

“I know what you did,” Ellen said, her expression not changing.

“I haven’t done anything!” Dean said defensively. Technically it was true…a murder had got in the way.

“Mmhmm,” Ellen replied sceptically. “Be sure to keep it that way.”

Dean looked to Sam for backup, but he was either ignoring them or was so lost in his research that he just wasn’t listening. “I uh…will,” he lied.

He walked as fast as he could to the kitchen and grabbed his coffee, as well as one for Ellen in the hopes of it softening her slightly (it didn’t) and returned to his lab. He was pleasantly surprised to find Adam had accepted his friend request. That would certainly make things easier. He had a quick look through the photos he could now access and discovered Adam was a food photographer. There seemed to be a picture of every meal he’d had for the past 3 years. The other photos showed a regular 20 year old kid. Photos with friends, photos at parties, self-taken photos in front of various parts of Wisconsin. It was like a paint by numbers college student’ profile.

Dean looked up when he heard a knock on the door. Not many people bothered to knock, so he was unsurprised when Bobby walked in. He was accompanied by a man and a woman in suits who were looking very serious. “These are the dentists,” Bobby said, without so much as a hello. Dean was grateful to him for keeping things normal.

Dean stood up to shake their hands. “Hi guys, come on in,” he said with a forced smile. “Dean Winchester. The uh, blood guy.”

They introduced themselves and Dr Grey and Dr Ellis and each shook Dean’s hand. He already disliked them.

“Gabriel left everything out for you so help yourselves. You’ll find a skull in every box or bag.”

“Give them whatever they need,” Bobby instructed before leaving them to it.

“So, these are the bodies?” Dr Ellis said, pointing at the piles of boxes on the side of the room. She said it like a babysitter might say ‘So are these the kids?’, making Dean wonder how many times they’d been in a situation like this.

“Yeah, help yourself,” Dean said, sitting back down at his desk. “If you need anything let me know.”

“I think we have everything we need for now, thanks,” Dr Grey said casually.

Dean angled his computer screen so he could watch them work. He’d seen forensic dentists doing their job before. They were often called in when a body was too burnt to identify in the traditional way, but usually they were fresh bodies and generally, they already had a good idea of who the victim was. He was actually curious about how they were going to go about it.

Grey and Ellis worked their way through the collection methodically, lifting the skull out of each bag or box and checking over the teeth. Many were too smashed to be useful, a number had apparently shrunk since death, but occasionally they would make a pleased sound and make a note. From several skulls they extracted a tooth and placed it in a labelled bag. It would be fascinating if Dean wasn’t so distracted by the amount of progress they seemed to be making. With the right selection of identities, they’d spot a pattern in no time.

He decided to take his mind off it by taking another look at Adam Milligan’s Facebook profile. He flicked back through the pictures of Adam with his mom, but there weren’t many after his High School graduation. He had a look at his posts to see if he’d written anything interesting, but it was all painfully generic. There was so little of note, it was noteworthy. Dean sighed to himself. Why would someone remove all evidence of him from his mother’s house? There were no passive aggressive comments, no mass deletion of pictures of his mom, he even came home for every holiday and birthday.

It wasn’t until Dean started flicking through Adam’s food photos that he noticed something interesting. He’d uploaded each one from his phone, and each one was stamped with the date and time, as well as location. Most were taken in Wisconsin, presumably close to his college, however the most recent one, taken yesterday, was marked “Denver, CO”. So Adam was close to home yesterday, not at college like he’d led the cops to believe.  _That_ was certainly suspicious. Probably enough to question him anyway.

So all pictures of Adam had been removed from Kate’s house, and Adam was in town at the time of her murder. Dean sat for a while mulling it over. A bright kid like Adam would know how suspicious it would look to take the pictures, so if he had, he would need a very good reason. If it was someone else, did that mean Adam would be the next victim? That seemed unlikely.

“Dean?” Dr Grey had appeared at the side of his desk, carrying an armload of evidence bags and files.

“Sorry,” Dean said, “zoned out for a minute there. You ok?” Dean said, quickly minimising Adam’s Facebook page.

“Yeah, we’re all done here. Would you mind showing us the way out?”

“Oh! Sure,” Dean said, locking his computer and jumping to his feet. “You get all you needed?”

“Enough to get started with, yeah,” Grey said as he and Dr Ellis followed Dean along the short corridor to the bullpen. 

Dean nodded, hoping that would be enough conversation to make him sound polite. As they passed Sam’s desk, Sam jumped to his feet and fell into step beside them. “Hi,” he said enthusiastically.

Dean groaned to himself. No doubt Sam was digging for information before anyone else got the chance. Dean just decided to go with it. “Doctors Ellis and Grey, this is Detective Sam Winchester. My brother.”

They all exchanged polite “hellos”. 

“You’re the forensic dentists right? Did you find anything usable?” Sam asked in what he obviously thought was a casual voice.

Ellis looked to Dean for permission before going on. Dean gave her a nod to indicate Sam was allowed to hear it. “We found 3 sets of teeth we think we can use, and we have about 9 teeth we think we can get pulp samples from.

“Wow,” Sam said, sounding genuinely impressed. “How long will it take to get the results?”

If we can get DNA, and the person is in the system, it’ll be a few days. If they’re not in the system more like weeks. The dental records…maybe never. We need to know what we’re looking for.”

“You’ll check them against people with criminal records though, right?” Sam said, as if it was obvious.

“We’ll be checking missing persons first, then we’ll decide how to proceed.”  Ellis said patiently.

They were almost by the elevator, so Dean decided it was a good time to step in. “Leave the nice people alone Sam. They know what they’re doing.” He pressed the down button on the elevator and said his goodbyes to the dentists.

“We’ll be in touch,” Grey said gravely as the elevator doors closed.


	12. Chapter 12

Sam sits at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper as the kettle boils quietly on the stove behind him. The smell of pizza is starting to fill the room and make him hungry. It won’t be long now. With all the pressure at work, he’s been looking forward to spending some time alone and kicking back with some trashy TV. The newspaper does little more than remind him why he’s stressed in the first place. The press have gotten hold of the “firebug” story and each day they ask why the police are yet to identify so many of the bodies.

When he hears the whistle of the kettle he gets up, grabs a cup, and goes to pour himself some tea. Before he gets the chance to pick up the kettle, a noise from behind distracts him. He turns quickly, just in time to see a tall dark shadow lurking over him before a blow to the head plunges everything into darkness.

When he awakes, he feels like his head is full of cotton wool and his vision is blurred, but he’s aware enough to realise he’s tied to the kitchen table. He tugs uselessly on his restraints and looks desperately around the room for a way out, but the kitchen door is blocked by that same dark figure. It comes closer and stands at his head, looking down at him. Sam can’t make out his face, but he can feel the threat. The man reaches down and picks a syringe off the table by Sam’s arm.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks, panic well and truly settled in by now.

The man says nothing, plunging the syringe into Sam’s neck instead.

Sam moans at the pain that seems to be spreading through his whole body. He quickly realises he can’t even struggle any more. He tries to pull against his restraints but his arms just won’t do what he wants them to. He uses what little movement he has in his neck to try and see the man’s face, but he keeps moving outside his field of vision.

“Why are you doing this?” Sam says weakly.

The man doesn’t speak, but Sam can hear him laughing from near the stove. Sam can’t even move his head now, but he has a feeling he knows what the man is doing. A flash of light confirms his fear. The man has lit a dishcloth on fire and is leaving it on the wooden cabinet to burn.

Sam is really panicking now. There isn’t even any smoke yet, but he’s already having trouble breathing. He listens helplessly to the man leaving via the back door and the crackling of flames that are already starting to creep into his field of vision. He’s aware of the rising heat that surrounds him but is now completely powerless to escape. He tries calling for help, but he can’t even open his mouth. He needs to get out of there. Now.

If he strains hard enough, he can almost get his hand to move. It’s right by his pocket, so if he can move it just a few inches, he should be able to reach his phone. All he needs to do is call the station and they’ll know he’s in trouble. He’s almost there when he starts to realise how sleepy he is. In fact…he can barely keep his eyes open. He can practically taste the smoke in the air, invading his lungs. He knows it’s messing with his mind, but he doesn’t really care any more, all he wants to do is sleep.

And he does.

-o-o-

Sam awoke panting with his heart racing and covered in sweat.  _Fuck_ that dream felt real. He turned on the lamp by his bed and scanned the room quickly, just to be sure. He knew it was a dream but he was still fucking scared. When he was sure his room was free of intruders, he switched off the lamp and lay back down. He’d been obsessing over Kate Milligan’s murder since last night, and Ruby’s for considerably longer. It was really no surprise he’d be dreaming about it. He pushed all thoughts of murder from his mind and closed his eyes, praying for at least a couple of hours of restful sleep.

Every time Sam closed his eyes, he was greeted with an onslaught of images of burning bodies, dark shadows and buried bones. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching his every move, waiting for a moment of weakness when they would pounce. For a while he tried sleeping with the light on, but it was no use. Eventually he gave up and got out of bed. He put on some socks, grabbed his phone, and went out to sit on the couch. He might as well do something productive if he was going to be awake.

Against his better judgement, he’d got permission to take home the South Valley Firebug files. He hadn’t bothered to look at them after work, but now was as good a time as ever. He looked first at the files on the victims, starting with Ephraim Jones. Dean was right; there wasn’t really anything to connect the victims. Perhaps the forensic dentists would be able to identify more of the victims and finding a pattern would be easier. Then there was the option he didn’t want to consider- that there was no connection at all. That the killer was carrying out random murders to satisfy some sick craving.

Sam didn’t realise how long he’d been sitting there, poring through the records until Dean stumbled into the room. He practically ignored Sam, rushing to the kitchen and firing up the coffee pot. “How long have you been up?” he mumbled from the kitchen.

Sam checked the clock on the wall before answering, “about 3 hours? I couldn’t sleep.”

Dean just nodded vaguely. “What’re you doing?”

Sam looked guiltily at the paperwork in front of him. “I’m uh, just going over the Firebug case again. I can’t get it out of my head, I thought it would help.”

“No wonder you couldn’t sleep.” Dean poured himself a cup of coffee and went to sit down beside Sam on the couch. “You need a ride to work?”

“Actually, I’m going to see my shrink this morning. I called her yesterday and got an appointment,” Sam said.

Dean already seemed to be waking up and at Sam’s revelation he sat up and half smiled. “Good for you buddy! That was a great idea.”

“Thanks, just tell Bobby I’ll get in as soon as I can.”

-o-o-

“Can you tell me what happened?” Dr Cosby asked, sounding unusually curious. She’d told Sam she was surprised when he made an earlier appointment. Sam supposed it was only fair to tell her why.

“Two days ago I was called to a crime scene,” Sam began. “I arrived to a street full of fire engines and police cars.”

Carol nodded encouragingly. Sam guessed she probably already knew where the story was going, but it was her job to listen after all.

“I think I knew before I even went inside. The smell alone brought the memory back. Some people tried to stop me from going in…I saw my brother, he tried to stop me too.” A part of Sam was worried he would sound callous if he recalled the details too quickly or too methodically, so he was careful to pause at the appropriate moments. “I pushed my way through all the people in the house, the cops, the firefighters, and got into the kitchen, and then I saw it. The body on the table, the burnt out kitchen, I could even smell the goddamn burnt pizza that had been in the oven.”

He waited to see what Dr Cosby’s reaction would be. Her face gave very little away. Sam thought perhaps he sensed some sympathy in her eyes, but it was so close to neutral he couldn’t be sure. Before she could speak he said in frustration, “I guess you’re going to ask how that makes me feel now?”

Carol smiled, which Sam found extremely frustrating. “If that’s something you’d like to tell me then please do.”

Sam sighed. “I didn’t feel frightened or sad or anything like that. I felt…” he paused again, worried about how it might sound, “I felt excited. Relieved.”

“Relieved about what?”

“Relieved that Ruby didn’t have some secret drug problem that got her killed. Relieved that I was right about her being murdered.”

“It’s important for you to be right?” she said neutrally.

“About this, yes,” Sam said. “It means I can move on.”

“And what are you doing to help you move on?”

Sam thought about it for a second. Maybe “move on” wasn’t the best choice of words. “I’m helping with the case. I’m trying to help them catch the guy who did it.”

“Helping? So you’re not assigned to the case?”

“Uh…” Sam started, trying to think of the best way to explain it. “Well I’ve already investigated it. I think I can help. I want to catch the killer more than anyone.”

“You don’t trust your colleagues to do their job?”

“Wait, no, it’s not that. I just want to be involved. I owe it to Ruby.” Sam cursed himself for always getting so defensive when talking to Carol.

Carol was quiet for a moment as she gave Sam an appraising look. “Why did you make this appointment?”

“Because I thought it would be a good idea to talk to someone about what happened,” Sam said. When Carol didn’t reply he added, “so I could tell you what happened and show you I wasn’t crazy for thinking Ruby had been murdered.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy Sam. I never said you were. Are you worried you might be?” she said calmly.

“No… though I’m a little worried about how happy this other poor woman’s murder has made me. I’m worried that makes me some kind of psychopath. I shouldn’t be taking pleasure in another human’s murder should I?”

“I thought you were happy that you were right and that Ruby didn’t have a drug problem.” Carol said.

“Yeah, there’s that, but I mean…I’ve had a really horrible year. I lost the love of my life, and then when I finally felt ready for another relationship, I broke up with her and moved out. I’ve been miserable Doc. If it wasn’t for Dean I’d have lost it. But since that woman’s murder…I’ve been happy. I have had something to focus on. A reason to get up in the morning! I feel genuinely happy for the first time in a year.”

Carol gave him a definite look of sympathy this time. “It doesn’t sound to me like the actual death made you happy, just what it represents. It gave you closure and allowed you to move on.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “I have to say Sam, I was expecting to have to prescribe you something for stress today. I’m glad that’s not the case.”

The session continued on much the same theme. Sam told Carol what was happening and she assured him he wasn’t crazy/psychotic/evil. When it was time to leave, he shook her hand and promised to return for his normal session in a few days. He had to admit, these appointments weren’t as bad as he’d imagined and he could get used to a trained professional telling him he wasn’t insane.

He left the doctor’s office and headed for the elevator. He smiled to the receptionist and gave him a small nod as he walked past his desk, and collided with the janitor who had just emerged from the elevator.

“Oh God, I’m sorry!” Sam said, picking up the bottles he’d knocked off the front of the janitor’s cart. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. I got it,” the janitor said, hurrying to get everything back on the cart.

Sam looked up and immediately recognised the man’s face. “Oh, hi. Uh… Mr Fitzgerald, right?”

The man looked embarrassed as he replied, “Hello Detective.”

“I didn’t know you worked here.” Sam tried to think back to the file on Garth Fitzgerald. He was sure there was no job listed. He even remembered remarking on the fact that a man could live alone in the forest without even a job.

“It’s uh…new,” he said, as if having a job was the most shameful thing he could imagine.

“Well good for you, congratulations,” Sam said, trying to encourage him.

“Thanks…I better get back to work. It was nice to see you,” he said, manoeuvring his way around Sam.

“That was weird,” the receptionist remarked.

Sam turned back to face him (Alex, according to his name plate). “What’s that?”

“Garth,” Alex said. “I’ve never seen him so lost for words. He’s always so talkative. You can’t pass him in the building without chatting to him for a half hour.”

“Huh,” Sam said, watching Garth disappear around the end of the corridor. “I guess I must have intimidated him or something. We’ve met before, but in an official capacity.”

“Uh…aren’t you a homicide detective?” Alex asked, eyes suddenly wide.

“Not like that,” Sam said with a grin.

“He didn’t exactly seem the type,” Alex said, grinning back.


	13. Chapter 13

“Didn’t this guy have any family?” Sam asked, reading through Dick Roman’s file for what was probably the twentieth time. “Why are we meeting with his publicist of all people?”

Ellen shrugged, not taking her eyes off the road. “He’s got a brother in Texas or something, but no others. No parents, no children. Didn’t even seem to have friends.”

“Great…” Sam muttered to himself. While family and friends were less likely to dish the dirt on someone, a publicist was an employee, and one specifically employed to make him look good.

“You never know,” Ellen said encouragingly, “maybe Roman wasn’t such a great boss. This guy might have hated him.”

The interview went exactly as expected. They were led through a grand, modern reception hall to what had once been Dick Roman’s office. To see the sheer number of people in the office and work being done, one would never suspect Dick Roman’s fate. It seemed he had left enough of a legacy to keep business thriving for some time. The receptionist, a small woman on the cusp of old age, offered them both a beverage and rushed off to get them the coffee they requested.

The coffee made it to the office before the publicist did. Sam suspected he was keeping them waiting intentionally as a display of his importance, but neither he nor Ellen were impressed. When he finally deigned to grace them with his presence, he strode into the room and sat down in Roman’s chair. He fixed them with a stare before replacing it with the false smile he probably saved for his clientele. “Aleister Crowley. What can I do for you, Detectives?” Somehow, his English accent made it sound like an insult rather than a genuine offer of help.

Ellen took the lead as Sam sat back and observed Crowley’s reaction to their questions. His facial expression didn’t falter as he answered each question in a calm, measured tone. Sam would almost have said it seemed practised.

“Did he have any enemies?” Ellen asked eventually.

“Plenty,” Crowley replied. “Every therapist whose patients realised they didn’t need their help. The pharma companies whose customers realised they could cope perfectly well without pills.” Sam noted down his response.

“Anyone who would want him dead?”

Crowley shrugged. “No one capable of it.” When Ellen and Sam shared a look he added, “I can get you a list of people he’s pissed off. Will that be enough to get you started?”

“Thank you Mr Crowley,” Sam said, dreading the inevitable task of checking through the names on that list.

Ellen pulled the other victim’s headshots from the file. “Have you seen any of these people before Mr Crowley?”

Crowley looked through each picture in turn, studying the picture of Lilith Payne for a particularly long time. He pushed forward the picture of Ephraim Holmes. “I’ve seen this guy on the news, but other than that I’ve never seen any of them before.”

Ellen nodded and stuffed the pictures back amongst her files. “Thank you, you’ve been helpful. If you think of anything else…” she slid her card across the desk and got up to leave. Crowley didn’t bother to show them out. They found their way back to the reception and smiled to the receptionist as Sam pressed the button for the elevator.

“What do you think?” Sam asked in the privacy of the elevator car.

Ellen gave him a sceptical look. “We’re going to have to go through the names, but I think it’s extremely unlikely we’ll find a link to any of the other victims.”

“Eugh,” Sam said in reply. “I was worried you were going to say that. I think you’re right.”

“Don’t get down Sam, something will come up. We haven’t run out of leads yet,” Ellen said, sounding unconvinced by her own words.

They took the elevator right down to the parking garage under the building and headed for Ellen’s car. At least they had _something_ to bring back to the station with them.

The sound of shoes on the concrete behind them made Sam turn to see the receptionist running towards them. “Detectives! Wait!” she called as she crossed the parking lot to reach them. She stood before them and looked them over as she caught her breath. “There’s something…I think I should tell you.”

Sam and Ellen shared a confused look. “You’re Dick Roman’s receptionist, right?” Sam said calmly, “What it is?”

“My name’s Mary McDonald. If I tell you this…I don’t want my name on record,” she said, glancing around nervously.  “I can’t have this getting back to anyone in the company.”

Sam and Ellen shared a serious look. Ellen said, “We can do our best to keep you out of it but eventually someone will need to know where the information came from.”

She seemed to think about it for a moment before he shoulders viably slumped. “I guess if it gets to that stage there won’t be much of a company left.”

That interested Sam. “If you’re uncomfortable, we can take a statement now to help us get started, and then you could call it in to the anonymous tip line,” he suggested. If this woman had information that damaging, he didn’t want to let it go. Ellen nodded encouragingly.

“Okay,” she said, gathering herself. “I uh…found something out about Mr Roman. I should have told someone sooner. I should have called the police, but I was worried about what would happen to me.”

Sam quickly took out his notepad to make sure he didn’t miss anything. “What was it? What did you find?”

“First of all, I’m not just the receptionist. I used to travel with Mr Roman to conferences, meetings, seminars…anything he thought he might need some administrative support. I’ve followed him all over the country.”

Sam nodded encouragingly. Guys like Dick Roman thought they were untouchable. If he was up to anything, it probably didn’t even occur to him to hide it from someone like Mary.

“At his seminars, he was treated like a rockstar. There were people who travelled halfway across the country just to hear him speak. We used to call them his groupies,” she said, rolling her eyes. “It turned out to be more accurate than we realised. Somehow Mr Crowley always managed to keep it under wraps, but he had quite a proclivity for young blondes.”

Sam made a note just in case, unsure where Mary’s story was headed.

“Not that I would deny him a bit of fun,” she added quickly. “Then once, we were in Miami for a show and on the first night of the conference, I saw him bring a girl back to his hotel room. While we were still in town I saw a news report claiming the woman had gone missing.” She paused, shaken at recalling the incident. “I pointed it out to Mr Crowley at the time, but he said I shouldn’t worry. That he’d seen the girl leave the hotel the next morning, so I thought little of it…until it happened again in San Francisco a couple of months ago. That was when I started looking into other missing person reports and realised a young blonde girl had gone missing in more than half the cities Mr Roman visited on his trips.”

“Oh my god,” Ellen muttered under her breath.

Sam’s heart was racing now. If Dick Roman had been involved in those girls’ disappearances, it was a link to Ephraim Holes and Lilith Payne. “So what did you do?” he asked curiously.

“I didn’t know what to do,” she said sadly. “I wish I’d just called the police as soon as I realised, but instead I showed Mr Crowley what I’d found. He shrugged it off, said it was just a coincidence and that  blonde girls go missing every day. He can be very convincing when he wants to be you know,” she said defensively, “that’s why he’s so good at his job.”

Sam gave her a small smile. “Don’t worry Mary, the fact that you’re telling us this now more than makes up for it.”

“That’s nice of you to say,” she said, unconvinced. “Anyway, by the time I realised I needed to tell someone, Mr Roman had gone missing, and then I found out he was dead…” She sighed. “It just kept getting worse and worse. But I still don’t want all these people to lose their jobs because of me.”

Ellen stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Mary’s arm. “Listen to me, if people lose their jobs it’s because of Dick, not you. You got that? You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

“Thank you,” she said flatly.

“No Mary, thank you. Seriously, this is a very very big help,” Sam assured her. “And make sure you call the tip line as soon as you get home today. We won’t be able to do anything with the information if you don’t.”

Sam wrote the number on the back of his card and handed it over before Mary hurried back to work.

“Oh my God,” Sam said as soon as he got into the car, trying his best to stay calm. “This is exactly what we needed Ellen!”

“Calm down there son, we don’t have anything until she calls it in,” Ellen said, starting the engine.

“But I have a place to start! If I can find the skeletons in Azazel’s closet then we’ll have the link between victims!” he said as he started a ‘to do’ list in his notebook.

-o-o-

Sam couldn’t wait to talk to Dean when he got back to the station. He went immediately to his lab and was relieved to find him at his desk. He sat down in the chair beside Dean and grinned over at him, trying to decide how to frame his news.

“What’s wrong with you?” Dean asked, looking him over.

“We’re just back from Dick Roman’s offices,” he said, brimming with excitement. “Guess what we found out?”

Dean sighed and gave Sam an exasperated look. “What did you find out Sam?”

“Dick Roman isn’t as squeaky clean as he appeared,” Sam said, almost bouncing out of the chair.

Dean looked up quickly and narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about, what did they tell you?”

“’They’ didn’t tell us anything, but we got a tip off from a credible source. Apparently he had a girl in every port and it seems a fair number of them went missing after being with him.”

Dean nodded contemplatively. “You got proof?”

“Not yet, but it’s a place to start. I’m going to see what else I can find out about Ephraim Holmes. He’s the only one left without a link to any crimes. There must be something I missed,” Sam was a little annoyed by Dean’s lack of enthusiasm regarding this case, but he was starting to get used to it.

“Have you told Bobby about it yet?” Dean asked.

“The lady who told me about it is going to call the tip line anonymously so I’ll tell him then. She’s worried about what might happen if people find out she’s the whistle blower.”

Dean just nodded in response. After a moment’s silence he said, “Is there something else?”

“I was right!” Sam blurted out. “I told you there was a link.”

“Okay,” Dean said and paused. “What does it mean?”

Sam hadn’t really thought about it. He was so obsessed with finding the link he’d barely stopped to consider how useful the link would be. “The killer is targeting criminals…”

Dean nodded. “But they’re not criminals, not proven anyway. They’re just people who’ve been close to a crime.”

Sam thought it through. Holmes hadn’t been caught before he was murdered. Lilith Payne had been implicated but nothing proved. Roman was getting away with it and was too well protected to get caught. “They’re all people who’ve avoided justice. We’re probably looking for some kind of vigilante who thinks they’re doing the world a favour!”

“Well…he sort’ve is,” Dean said, “He’s getting these people off the streets, stopping them hurting anyone else.”

Dean had an ability Sam lacked to get into the mind-set of the people they were hunting. It wouldn’t be the first time Sam had come to him to try and get a new perspective on a case. “He probably thinks he’s the good guy,” Sam mused.

Dean shrugged. “Start by proving there actually is a link before you start profiling the killer.”

Sam sat back and relaxed slightly. Dean also had a great ability to keep him grounded. It helped focus him.

“How’d your appointment with the shrink go?” Dean asked casually, looking back at his computer screen.

“Fine,” Sam said. “She doesn’t think I’m pure evil for being happy about Kate Milligan’s death and she thinks I have an uncontrollable desire to be right.”

Dean snorted. “Well, the first thing you did when you found out about Dick was come here and tell me you were right…” he said with a grin.

“Shut up, I did nothing of the sort,” Sam said good-naturedly, smiling back.

“Did it help?” Dean said curiously.

“I think it did a little,” Sam said, realising he did feel better after talking to Carol.

“Good. I’m glad you’re getting something out of it,” Dean said, looking back at his computer screen.

Sam was surprised to admit it, but after two sessions with the psychiatrist, he really was feeling a little better. He’d had a really tough year, and even when he was with Amelia, he never stopped thinking about Ruby. He never stopped feeling guilty and had spent more time blaming himself than mourning Ruby.

“You’ll never guess who I ran into in the doctor’s office,” Sam said, remembering the encounter he had on his way out. Dean shrugged. “Garth Fitzgerald, you know the guy who-“

“Yeah, I know the guy,” Dean interrupted. “He’s in therapy? Not that much of a surprise I guess…”

“No, he’s working there as a custodian,” Sam said, “He hasn’t been doing it long but apparently he’s a pretty popular guy. Seemed kinda spooked about seeing me though. Like he was embarrassed I found out he had a job or something. It was pretty weird.”

“He’s a pretty weird guy,” Dean said dismissively.

Everything about Garth suggested he should be a weird guy- He lived alone in the middle of the woods, he didn’t have any friends they knew of, he didn’t have a drivers licence…there was barely a record of him before now. But he didn’t seem weird at all. In fact he was painfully average. Sam found it oddly frustrating. “Anyway,” he said eventually, standing up to leave “I have a ton of work to do.”

“Good luck,” Dean said quietly.


	14. Chapter 14

Sam had really hoped talking to Dr Carol would help him sleep more restfully, but once again he awoke in a cold sweat from a dream about Ruby’s killer. He sat up and ran his hands through his hair. He’d never had trouble sleeping before, no matter how stressful or gruesome things got, but the events of the past weeks had really got to him. He checked the time and groaned to himself. He’d only been asleep for an hour and wouldn’t have to get up for another six. It was going to be a very long night if he didn’t get some sleep.

He wondered briefly if perhaps Dean was still awake. Maybe a little company would help, or telling someone else about his nightmares. He swung his legs out of the bed and opened his bedroom door. He was disappointed to find the apartment was in complete darkness, but he decided to check on Dean anyway. He walked the few steps down the hall to Dean’s room and paused outside the door. It wasn’t closed completely, but there was only a small crack for Sam to peek through. He could hear Dean breathing heavily and grunting intermittently and at first he thought he was having a nightmare too. It wasn’t until he looked through the crack in the door that he realised his was lying on his back with his eyes closed and his dick in his hand, jacking off.

Everything in Sam told him he should turn right back around and go back to his own room, but he found himself stuck on the spot. He couldn’t remember seeing Dean in such a vulnerable position and it was oddly fascinating. He held his breath and pushed the door open a little more allowing him a clearer view. Dean didn’t falter, so he assumed he’d gotten away with it. It was a terrible invasion of Dean’s privacy, he knew, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to tear himself away. He soon found himself hypnotised by the tip of Dean’s cock appearing and disappearing from his fist in a rhythm so regular, Sam wondered how long he’d be able to keep it up.

For some reason, the idea of Dean masturbating was strange to Sam. He had a reputation for being highly sexual, a womaniser, but the more Sam thought about that, the more he realised that just wasn’t true. Sure, he’d seen him bring home girls from time to time but he’d never really had a girlfriend. It almost felt like he wasn’t all that interested in sex or relationships at all, and yet here he was.

When Dean let out a particularly long groan, Sam knew he must be getting close. With his left hand, Dean reached down and squeezed his balls and picked up the pace with his other hand. Sam’s hand flew to his own groin when he felt a twitch. He gripped himself tightly to try and avoid growing harder and watched as Dean’s back arched and he came over his hand with a sigh. He settled back down and opened his eyes. Sam stifled a gasp, but he was too late. Dean had seen him.

Their eyes locked, and Sam considered just running back to his room, but he found himself unable to move. Dean looked barely interested in his brother’s presence. He looked him up and down, his eyes settling on Sam’s hand on his crotch. Eventually he looked back up at his face and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Dean, I…” he began, knowing there was nothing he could say to justify why he was standing there.

“You need something buddy?” Dean said, more casually than Sam deserved.

“No. Sorry.”

“Then goodnight Sam,” he said, pulling his sheets up over himself and turning onto his side.

“Night,” Sam muttered, and retreated to his own bedroom. The door was barely closed before he whipped out his cock and jacked himself. He leaned back against the door and almost choked as he came hard over his hand.

-o-o-

If Dean was embarrassed by Sam’s interruption the previous night, he didn’t show it. In fact, if Sam didn’t have his own come stained pyjamas as evidence, he’d almost think he’d imagined the whole thing. Dean could be stoic about anything including, apparently, his brother watching him jack off.

Sam spent the morning at work doing absolutely anything he could think of to distract him from the Firebug case and Ruby’s killer from reading over cold cases to making coffee for everyone in the office. He’d stared at those files for far too long, he knew, and it was evidently getting to him. He sat down at his desk and tried to organise the huge amount of paperwork he’d left lying around.

Sam jumped when his phone rang. The caller ID said it was Dean and he cringed slightly. He took a breath and answered the phone. “Hello?”

“The Dentists’ report is back,” Dean said without preamble.

Sam was flooded with relief. Hopefully this would lead to some kind of break in the case. “I’ll be right there,” he told Dean, and headed straight for the lab.

He found Dean sitting at his desk, looking nervously at a beige folder. Every new piece of evidence seemed to get Dean more on edge. It was like he wanted to solve the case single-handedly or something.

“That the results?” Sam asked before sitting down on the chair by Dean’s desk.

“Sure is,” Dean said. “Don’t flip out, okay?”

Sam’s heart started racing. “Okay… What is it Dean?”

Dean closed the folder and pushed it across the desk to Sam. “Have look at the names. Recognise any of them?”

Sam flipped open the file and scanned the summary page. It seemed they’d been able to find dental records for 9 more victims, along with 3 DNA matches. Sam read through the list of names and shook his head, “None sound familiar…”. Dean turned his computer monitor so Sam could see it. Sam read the name on the file Dean had open - Charlene Penn. “Oh my God!” Sam said, almost bouncing out of his chair.

“Just you wait,” Dean said, and clicked onto the next record. Jacob Styne, another match.

“How many?” Sam asked, feeling even more hopeful.

“Five,” Dean said. “Those two, Sue Ann Le Grange, Ansem Weems and Dr Ian Benton.”

Sam couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. This was exactly what he was looking for, something to link the victims. There were still some unaccounted for, but Sam would bet if he looked into their past and interviewed enough people, he’d find some evidence of wrongdoing on their part. “I told you,” he said, pointing at Dean. “I knew there was a link. I’m definitely going to Bobby with this now!”

“I’m happy for you Sam, this sure is a step in the right direction,” Dean said, not sounding all that happy.

How could he still be so sceptical? “Are you serious? This is a huge break in the case! Why aren’t you happier?”

“I don’t know Sam,” Dean said with a shrug, “over a third of Americans have police files. You could get this kind of link with any sample. I’m a scientist man, I like solid results.”

Sam let out a frustrated growl. “I can’t believe you dude,” he muttered before gathering the report and storming out the door of the lab. This was a damn good lead and he knew it. How did Dean always manage to plant doubt in his mind? Before anyone else could have the chance to confuse him, he headed straight for Bobby’s office and knocked the door.

“Come in,” Bobby called through the door. Sam pushed the door open and sat down in front of Bobby, not giving him the chance to say anything else.

“Look, Lieutenant, I know it isn’t my case, but I’ve been looking into the Firebug case a little and I have a theory,” Sam blurted out.

Bobby looked taken aback, but curious. “Hey, Sam, as long as it’s not affecting your work you can look into whatever you want. What’ve you got?”

Sam handed Bobby the Dentists’ report. “This came back from the forensic dentists this morning. They were able to identify 12 more victims,” he said, giving Bobby time to look at the summary.

“Huh,” Bobby said, “Jacob Styne. I interviewed him a few years ago about the disappearance of a teenager.” He closed his eyes, trying to recall the details. “I’m pretty sure the kid was seen walking with someone matching Styne’s description into a building owned by his uncle. Wasn’t able to verify anything though and we had to let him go.”

Sam nodded enthusiastically. “He’s not the only one. Bobby, five of these people have police files as well as two of the victims we already knew about. Plus Dick Roman’s secretary told us she thinks he was involved in murders of a bunch of girls all over the country.”

Bobby nodded. “That certainly sounds like a link to me. So what are you saying, our serial killer is some sort of vigilante?”

“It sure seems that way,” Sam said with a shrug, and took a breath before adding, “But that’s not all. I think maybe he has access to our files.”

Bobby frowned before nodding slowly. “There are too many victims. Only someone who knew who we were talking to and what we were investigating would be able to find that many people.”

“They’re all people who’ve slipped through the net. People whose involvement couldn’t be proved. What cop hasn’t had a case where they _knew_ someone was guilty but they just couldn’t prove it?”

“This is good Sam, good work,” Bobby said, looking serious. “Milton is giving us a briefing later about the forensic evidence we have so far. I’ll tell everyone then.”


	15. Chapter 15

Lieutenant Singer stood at the front of the meeting room in front of practically every cop in the department, as well as six or seven support staff, including Dean. Sam really hoped Dean wouldn’t be pissed at him for going to Bobby so quickly, but it had worked out and he had been so sure he was right. Gabriel stood beside him looking serious which was enough to make Sam nervous. He must have something, another clue or maybe even a solid lead.

“I’ve gathered you all here so Milton can share his findings. He and the medical examiners have been going over the remains of the Firebug victims and I thought it was important for you to hear his report.” He stood aside and pulled Gabe front and centre. “Go ahead Gabriel, the rest of you take notes.”

“Don’t worry,” Gabriel began, “I’ll make this very quick.” He pressed a button on his laptop and a picture appeared behind him showing (according to the label) the remains of Dick Roman. Gabe grinned at the reaction of the room. “I know, I know. But that’s what happens when someone sets you on fire and buries you for a couple of months.”

Sam recoiled at the sight along with everyone else. It was difficult to look at and for a moment Sam felt something close to sympathy for the guy before he remembered what Roman was accused of doing. He glanced sideways at Dean who was looking forward, as stoic as ever.

Gabe picked up a file from the table in front of him and flipped it open. “Most of what we found is as you’d expect. The bodies were burned post-mortem. Defensive wounds on some but not all though we suspect if there was flesh to examine there would be even more. We have bodies from as far back as five years ago. We still can’t figure out how many different people these bones have come from and so our current body count of 39 is based on the number of skulls we’ve recovered. Now…” he said, extending a pointer and indicating the picture on the screen. “This is where it gets interesting.”

Sam snorted. Typical of a forensics guy to think everything he’d just reported was anything other than interesting.

“Now obviously a lot of the bones have just been hacked in half, but if you have a look at where the joints should be,” and he pointed to where Roman’s shoulders and hips were to illustrate the point, “you’ll see just how surgical some of this work was.”

Muttering began to spread through the crowd.

“Now, this is just speculation,” Gabriel went on, “but we think the killer knows just how and where to cut up his victim to keep them alive as long as possible.”

The muttering turned into full blown conversation as everyone in the room started to process this new information.

Gabe nodded. “I know what you’re all thinking, and we thought the same thing. It’s extremely likely the killer has some sort of medical background. We’re talking doctors, nurses, medical examiners… forensics guys,” he added with a smirk.

The room erupted as everyone started sharing their theories at once. Gabe folded his arms and grinned, apparently please with the chaos his report had caused.

Bobby stood up and silenced the room with a whistle. “Listen up boys and girls, we’re not finished yet,” he said before picking up the dentists’ report. “We got word back from the forensic dentists today.”

Sam looked at Dean to gauge his reaction and was surprised to find him staring back. He gave Sam a small smile before looking back at Bobby. He was always so damn hard to read.

“Some of you might recognise a couple of names in here. It’s starting to look like the victims may have something in common after all. Two of the victims we had already identified and five of the new names have police files already. They’ve all been linked with crimes in the past but were never charged.”

The whispering picked up again at that new piece of information. Sam smiled to himself knowing they were coming to the same conclusion as he had.

“It seems our serial killer is a bit of a vigilante,” Bobby said, glaring at anyone still whispering. “There are too many for it to be a coincidence and some of these crimes were never publicised. I think a good starting point would be to look into anyone with a medical background who has access to police files.”

-o-o-

Sam awoke with a start and quickly realised he’d been having another nightmare. This time the Firebug was cutting him up while he was still awake and watching. He’d worked scores of cases, but for whatever reason, things were really getting to him lately. He glanced at the clock and groaned when he realised he’d only been asleep for half an hour. Now that they had a solid lead to work from in the Firebug case, he was determined to get enough sleep to make himself useful. He lay back down again and closed his eyes, trying his best to unwind. He never really took the time to clear his head.

An hour later, Sam still hadn’t gotten any sleep. He tried sleeping with the lights on, he tried burying himself in the covers, he tried thinking happy thoughts, but nothing worked. He made a snap decision to go and see if Dean was still awake and threw back his sheets. He picked a t-shirt off the floor and put it on with the sweatpants he slept in before crossing the hall to Dean’s door. After the previous night’s events, he decided not to peek through the crack. “Dean?” he whispered.

No response.

“Dean?” he said, a little louder, partly hoping to wake his brother.

“Whu?” Dean answered, mostly awake.

Sam pushed the door open and found Dean, thankfully, lying on his stomach and covered from the waist down by his bedsheets. “Dean man, can I talk to you a second?”

Dean turned over and propped himself up. “Can’t it wait ‘til morning?” Dean asked, his eyes barely open.

“I’m afraid not,” Sam said, sitting down on the edge of Dean’s bed. “I haven’t been sleeping. I keep having these nightmares, mostly about the Firebug.”

“Nightmares huh?” Dean said. “Isn’t this something you should be talking to your shrink about?”

Sam sighed. “I will, I just can’t get this stuff out of my head.”

“You’re worried some serial killer’s gonna come after you?” Dean said with a hint of derision.

“Maybe a little,” Sam admitted. “Can I sleep in here? I really think a little company will help me get some sleep. I’m starting to lose it man.” He knew it was asking for trouble, but he needed to know he was safe if he was to stand a chance of getting any sleep at all.

Dean was obviously hesitant, but he agreed nonetheless. “It’ll be just like when we were kids,” he said with a laugh. “Climb in.” Dean shuffled over to the side to make room and Sam got in beside him.

“Wait a minute, are you naked under there?”

Dean whipped back the covers to display the boxers he was wearing. “Don’t worry, I stopped sleeping naked since you moved your prudish ass in. Now get in here.”

“Thanks Dean, I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Perhaps another heartbeat in the room was all Sam needed, for it was three hours before he awoke again. His dreams were more peaceful and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he’d actually slept. He quickly realised why he’s woken up. Dean was lying almost on top of him with one arm wrapped around his waist. Careful not to wake him, Sam wrapped his arm around Dean’s shoulders and placed the other on his brother’s hip. He felt safe and protected with Dean draped over him like a blanket and if Dean could sleep in this position, Sam was more than willing to go along with it.

After last night, he wondered if this was something he should tell Dr Cosby about. He absent-mindedly started stroking his hand up and down Dean’s side. It was comforting to have another person so close to him. Ever since Amelia he’d been feeling particularly touch-starved, especially with everything going on at work. Gradually his hand inched closer and closer to Dean’s ass, his fingers just reaching the edge of his underwear. Throwing caution to the wind (he could always pretend he was sleeping) he moved his hand right onto Dean’s ass cheek.

Dean didn’t move, but he gave a small sigh. Sam froze knowing he’d crossed a line and afraid he had woken him. When Dean still seemed settled, Sam squeezed gently and moved his hand in little circles. The arm around his waist tightened, but Dean still didn’t wake up. When Sam moved his fingers to the crack, Dean gave a hum and wriggled contentedly. Sam stopped holding back then. He pressed his fingers against the fabric of Dean’s boxers and down into the crevice, and traced the line down between Dean’s legs. His finger just about touched the back of Dean’s balls when Sam was hit with a wave of guilt. He was taking advantage of another man while he slept, and not just any man, his brother. It was illegal and immoral in so many ways. He withdrew his hand and rested it on his stomach, hoping in the morning this would all feel like a dream.

“Don’t stop,” Dean murmured sleepily into Sam’s chest.

Sam closed his eyes and held his breath, stupidly hoping he could pretend to be asleep. He felt Dean lift his head up, probably to look at Sam’s face, and lie back down again. Sam tried to keep his breathing steady, but he knew it was too late. Dean had been awake and knew what Sam had done. One thing was for sure, when Sam eventually drifted off, he wasn’t worrying about a serial killer.


	16. Chapter 16

Dean awoke that morning with another person’s leg between his knees and his arm draped over a very solid, very masculine chest. He pulled back, confused at first, before remembering it was just Sam. He settled back down, strangely comfortable in this position before remembering Sam’s little late night groping session. Laughing to himself, he had to wonder if straight laced Sam would really do something like that intentionally or if it had been some kind of weird, handsy dream he was acting out. Plus, he’d left him hanging just when it started to get good! Rude. Logically, Dean knew he should be disgusted and violated and he should have a serious word with Sam about it, but as far as he was concerned it felt good, it didn’t hurt anyone and so it was no one’s business but his.

His morning snooze was interrupted when his phone rang. He and Sam both started when the ringtone sounded and Sam groaned at being woken up in such a way. Dean reached over Sam to his phone and sat up against the headboard to answer it. “Hello?” he said.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel said on the other end.

“Hey Cas, what’s up?” Dean said still rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“We got a call to a crime scene and it would be useful if you could come,” he said carefully.

“What’s that supposed to mean, why wouldn’t I come?” Dean asked curiously.

“The crime scene is almost identical to Claire Milligan,” he explained. “I can wait for the body to be taken away if you’d prefer to come after.”

“No no, it’s fine,” Dean said as his heart began to race. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Text me the address, okay Cas?” he said before hanging up the phone.

“What was that about?” Sam asked even though he had clearly heard every word both of them had said.

“Crime scene, gotta get ready for work,” Dean said, hoping Sam wouldn’t go into it any further.

“I’ll come with you,” Sam said, getting out of bed and heading for the door.

“You don’t need to see this Sam, there’ll be plenty of people there. You can read the report afterwards,” Dean said, thinking about how Sam reacted last time.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine. Last time was just a shock, I know what to expect this time,” Sam said before heading to his own room to get dressed.

“Whatever you say,” Dean muttered as he found clean clothes for himself.

Sam was quiet on the way to the crime scene which Dean was glad of. Sam was usually a talker, and Dean was worried he might feel the need to talk about what had happened in bed last night, but other than some awkwardness as they moved past each other in the kitchen, he was mercifully quiet.

Dean used the time to think through the crime scene they were heading for. If Cas was right, and this was the same person, what could that mean for him. Was it Adam Milligan? Why did he chose to kill this way? Maybe he would be able to convince Sam it wasn’t someone out to get him.

By the time they reached the address Cas had texted, the street was relatively quiet. There were mostly just police cars on the road with one team of fire inspectors packing up to leave. They parked the Impala nearby and Dean grabbed his kit from the trunk before heading into the house. Sam led the way, aiming instinctively for the kitchen at the back of the house.

The body was gone by now, but the evidence of what had happened was still clear. It was identical to Kate Milligan’s kitchen, right down to the burnt pizza in the oven. Sam headed right into the middle of it and started asking questions of anyone who would listen. Dean hung back and waited to speak to Castiel who was giving instructions to a uniformed officer.

“Hey Cas,” Dean said, loading his voice with as much dread as he thought would sound appropriate.

Castiel gave him a small smile. “Thanks for coming Dean, Gabriel was already called out this morning and suggested I phone you.”

“What do you need me to do?” Dean asked, looking around the mess.

“Just the usual. Anything the first responders might have missed.”

Dean nodded and set his kit down on the kitchen counter. “Who’s the victim?”

“Name’s Carol Cosby,” Cas said, checking his clipboard to be sure.

Dean felt a shiver run through his whole body. “Jesus Cas, you don’t mean Dr Carol Cosby? As in, Sam’s shrink?”

Cas looked up and his eyes widened. “Are you serious?”

“You think I’d joke about this?” Dean said, glancing over his shoulder to locate Sam. He was going to have to get him out of there as soon as possible.

“Dean, what the hell is going on? Who is doing this?” Cas said, bewildered.

Dean was lost for words.

Sam appeared at his side moments later looking like he’d just been punched. He already knew.

“Sam…” Dean started, not sure what to say.

“I’m uh…going outside for some air, okay?” he said, and wandered out into the back yard.

Dean looked to Cas for help. He had no idea what he was going to say or do to help Sam.

“Go on, this can wait,” Cas said unhelpfully, gesturing out the door. Dean just nodded, hoping maybe Cas would follow him and think of something comforting to say, but he found himself outside and alone.

“Are you okay?” he asked, sitting down on the patio furniture beside his brother. It was such a stupid question. Of course he wasn’t okay. As hard as it was for Dean to set aside his arrogance and admit these murders weren’t aimed at him, it was going to be much harder for Sam to accept that they were so obviously for his benefit.

“This is all my fault,” Sam said in a quivering voice. “I got her killed.”

While it was true, knowing Sam had gotten Carol killed, Sam wasn’t directly responsible. It seemed obvious to Dean, but Sam just had to take the blame on himself. “Don’t be ridiculous Sam, this is the fault of whoever drugged her, tied her down and started that fire.”

“Oh God!” Sam exclaimed and started crying more openly.

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best thing Dean could have said. “Look, we need to be practical about this. If anything, it’ll make it easier to catch this guy. We have a link! A starting point. You love those!”

“The starting point is me? That’s not very comforting Dean.” Sam said dryly.

Dean shook himself. He could do this. He placed a hand on Sam’s leg and said, “This isn’t your fault Sam, and if anyone can catch the killer, you can.”

Sam was quiet for a while, staring forward. “Who would do this?” he sighed, looking desperately at Dean.

Dean shook his head and gave a small shrug. “I wish I knew. _Believe_ me.”


	17. Chapter 17

After last night, Sam had been dreading his lunch with Dean all morning. In fairness, Dean seemed perfectly happy to pretend nothing strange was going on between them, but Sam couldn’t get it out of his head. Ever since he realised he had a weird gay crush on his brother, he was able to think of little else when they were alone together (unless of course, there was a murder to distract him). After leaving the crime scene that morning, they had arranged to go to the sandwich place across the street together to distract Sam from the stares and whispering behind his back. Everyone was treating him like he was made of glass and one inconsiderate word could break him.

Lunch, it turned out, had been a welcome escape from, well, everything. They spoke only of inconsequential things, like sports and the weather and didn’t even mention murder or incest! It was just like things had been before any of this started. They were even able to laugh about Dean’s rescheduled date with Jo that was happening that evening. By the time they made it back to the station, Sam was almost starting to feel like his old self again.

He arrived back at his desk to find Garth Fitzgerald, the witness from the Firebug case, waiting for him at his desk. He’d completely forgotten he was coming in today. He stood up as Sam approached.

“Mr Fitzgerald, sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, shaking Garth’s hand.

“It’s okay, I was early,” he said, waving off Sam’s apology.

“I’ll be with you in a couple of minutes, just make yourself comfortable,” he said and turned back to Dean who he found hanging back, looking concerned.

“Uh, Sam can I talk to you for a minute in my lab?” Dean said with forced calm.

“Sure,” Sam said, concerned and followed Dean back to his lab.

“ _That’s_ Garth Fitzgerald?” Dean exclaimed as soon as the door was closed behind them.

"I know right,” Sam said, “not what you expect a reclusive forest dweller to look like huh?"

“Sure isn’t…” Dean said thoughtfully. “And that’s the same guy that works at the psychiatrist’s office as a janitor?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, confused by Dean’s interest. “Why? What are you thinking?”

Dean hesitated before answering. “It’s probably nothing,” he said slowly. “He’ll be questioned about Dr Cosby’s murder too, right?”

“Maybe. Dean what are you not telling me?” Sam said, growing impatient.

“It’s nothing, honestly Sam. Just go and do your job, I’ll talk to you later,” Dean said dismissively and opened the door for Sam. “Go on, I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Okay okay,” Sam said, allowing himself to be ushered out of the room before heading back to his own desk. There was really no point in arguing with Dean sometimes. He was obviously hiding something, but Sam knew he wouldn’t be able to get anything out of him right now.

-o-o-

“Thanks again for your patience,” Sam said as he sat down at his desk in front of Garth.

“No problem, I’m just happy I can help,” Garth said amiably. He really was remarkably polite for someone who had so little contact with other people.

“We just wanted to get you back in again to talk through what you saw that night. We’ve got a lot of new evidence since we first talked and we just want to make sure we haven’t missed anything,” Sam explained. It was a long shot, but perhaps now that some time has passed, Garth would remember something else.

“Sure thing,” Garth said. “What do you want to know?”

Sam opened his top drawer and riffled around for his notes on the case. He found the notes from the last interview and pulled out a fresh interview sheet. “Okay, so I’m going to start by going over your account from last time, okay?” At Garth’s nod, he went on. “Right so, you were out for a walk at around 10pm and smelled smoke. When you went to investigate you found a fire that had been recently extinguished and saw a man burying what we now know to be the burnt remains of a body. All right so far?”

“Yeah, that all sounds familiar.”

“Now this is the important part. I want you to listen carefully and tell me if I’ve left anything out or if you remember anything else. You see a man digging. He’s tall with short hair and he’s wearing jeans and a green jacket. What colour is his hair?” Sam asked hopefully.

Garth closed his eyes and his face showed his was concentrating hard. “It’s light brown. Not quite blond, but it’s dark. It’s hard to see.”

“That’s great Garth, thank you!” Sam said encouragingly and wrote down this new detail. “So you see the guy digging and then you realise he’s spotted you and so you run, right? But you heard him drive off?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Garth says with his eyes still closed.

“Did he finish burying the body? How did he get away so fast?” Sam asked carefully.

Garth was quiet for a moment, thinking it through. “I heard him close the trunk. He must’ve been putting his shovel away. I guess he must’ve been almost finished when I saw him.”

“Did you hear anything else?”

“It was mostly just the sound of my own feet on the forest floor. I heard his car driving away…wait! I heard the car door slamming. It was loud.”

“He slammed the door hard?” Sam said, writing down everything Garth said.

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Garth clarified. “The door was loud, like the hinges needed oil. Actually, the trunk was pretty loud as well…and the engine.”

Sam gave it a little thought. “So you think maybe it was an older car?” he asked, not really sure where he was going with it.

“Yeah,” Garth said with a little enthusiasm. “Yeah, I think you’re right. It sounded way too loud and clunky for it to be a new car.”

Garth didn’t have much else to contribute, but Sam wrote down everything he said anyway. Any little thing could help point them in the right direction. Sam thanked him for his help, shook his hand and showed him out.

When Sam was back at his desk and looking through all his notes so far, he started making connections that made him uncomfortable. A tall man with fair hair, a medical background, connections to law enforcement and drives an old car. Only an idiot wouldn’t immediately think of Dean. But he knew it wasn’t Dean. There was no way in hell Dean could get away with something like that right under his nose. He wasn’t capable of murder, especially not on that scale, but would everyone else see it like that?

Sam decided to put off writing up Garth’s interview for a while.


	18. Chapter 18

Dean sat down at his desk and unlocked his computer as fast as his fingers could move, silently grateful that Gabe wasn’t in the lab. The man was claiming to be Garth Fitzgerald, but Dean would have recognised that face anywhere. That man Sam was interviewing was Adam Milligan, he was sure of it. As soon as his computer was logged in, he went to Adam’s Facebook page to double check. He was unsurprised to find Adam had changed his profile picture and changed his privacy settings so only his friends could see his photos. He logged in to his fake account and had a quick look through Adam’s pictures. There was no doubt about it, Adam was lying about his identity.

Dean sat back and tried to get his head around it. Pieces of the puzzle were starting to click together in his mind. For a start, it seemed Adam was the one who saw him that night and went to the police. That was strange. Second, he had probably killed his mother and had a link to Dr Cosby. Perhaps it was time to revisit the idea that those murders were to get his attention after all.

He couldn’t help the wave of protectiveness that came over him at the thought of Sam being in the same room as a killer. Well…a killer that wasn’t Dean.

He was going to have to consider his next move very carefully. That first night when he’d been interrupted, he knew Garth…make that Adam, had seen more than he let on. If Dean was to reveal his identity now he ran the risk of Adam selling him out. On the other hand, if he was able to finger Adam for the murders, Sam would believe he’d caught Ruby’s killer- Something he’d been obsessing about for over a year. At the end of the day, to Dean, it wouldn’t be worth it. He was going to have to find proof himself and kill Adam. He decided to find Garth Fitzgerald’s cabin in the woods and see what he found there.

It raised the question, if Adam was trying to get his attention, why did he chose to recreate a one-off killing? Dean had a very exact style and process for each death. It was an art. Yet Adam had picked the one killing where he’d stepped outside his normal modus operandi. Was it the theatrics? Was it the connection to Sam? And how did he get the details so exact?

Dean resisted the urge to go out and see what Adam had said this time. If he’d suddenly remembered any new details to close the net a little more. With this new theory about medical and law enforcement backgrounds, Dean was beginning to get uncomfortable. The Demon was becoming furious. He was sure Sam would come and tell him if there was anything important to share. He always did.

-o-o-

As if Dean didn’t have enough to worry about, he had rescheduled his ill-fated date with Jo for tonight. Somehow Ellen had found out and gave him a lecture before he left work about honesty and commitment and drinking too much. Dean had made a smart-alec remark, which upon reflection was a mistake, and Ellen had given him a clip around the ear. He sheepishly waved goodbye to Sam who was getting a cab home, and got out of the bullpen as quickly as possible.

Jo was working the day shift, so Dean had arranged to pick her up from the bar and take her out for dinner. He pulled up beside the bar about ten minutes before the end of her shift and decided to go inside for a drink before going out. He went inside and immediately spotted her behind the bar. There were very few people around and she smiled at him as he approached.

“You’re early,” she said, putting down the glasses she’d been loading into the dishwasher.

“I couldn’t wait,” he said with a grin. “Can I get a drink?”

She looked over her shoulder at the other bartender and called, “Hey Travis, you mind if I go a couple minutes early? My date is here?”

Travis came over and looked Dean up and down. “What, this guy? I dunno…”

Jo punched his arm good-naturedly. “Come on, I’ve covered for you when you wanted to go out with people way crappier than Dean!”

“Uh, hey!” Dean said with mock offence.

“Okay, okay,” Travis said, “you kids go have fun.”

Jo ran to get her bag from the back and came around the front of the bar to meet Dean. “We going in your car?” she asked with a grin.

“Only the best,” Dean said, and led her out to the car.

They arrived at the restaurant within ten minutes and went inside. Dean usually avoided places like this because he had the impression they were all full of families and kids, but Jo assured him that wasn’t the case (plus, there was a bar!). They went inside and were quickly seated by the hostess in a booth by the window. Dean gave a nod of approval. Maybe someone he knew would walk by and see what a normal human interaction he was having.

A waiter brought them drinks while they studied the menu. Not that Dean needed to see a menu in a restaurant with a famous burger. When he went to take a drink of his beer, he was surprised to find Jo staring at him. “What?” he said, forcing a smile.

Jo smiled back. “Nothing, just trying to figure you out.”

Dean gave a laugh. He didn’t like the sound of that.

“So you work with blood,” she said, leaning forward. “What’s that like?”

“Mostly,” Dean said, “Though I do some regular forensics stuff too when they need me to.”

“Uh huh,” Jo said, sounding disinterested. “What else?”

Dean shrugged. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what else is there to you? My mom seems to think you’re some over-sexed womaniser, but that’s obviously not the case. So what else is there?” She fixed Dean with a curious stare and folded her arms on the table.

Dean was thrown. He had a job, he had a home, he was out on a date… what more did she want? Weren’t those the things that made people normal? The waiter bought him another minute of thinking time when he came to take their order.

“I have a brother, Sam,” Dean said hopefully when the waiter was gone. “He just moved in with me after breaking up with his girlfriend.”

Jo rolled her eyes. “Sam is my mom’s partner. I know all that. I wanna know what makes you tick.”

Dean was at a loss. “Alright then, what makes you ‘tick’?” he asked.

“I’m working in that bar every hour God sends to save money to go travelling. I always wanted to go to Europe and see all the architecture I studied in college. I love tattoos, classic rock, guns, cats, pastries, shoes, the fucking colour purple… What do you love Dean?”

Killing people. “I dunno! Nothing!”

“Bullshit,” she said. “You thought of something, I can tell. What is it?”

Dean tried to think of a response that sounded less serial killery and more ‘I love my job so much I sometimes bring my work home with me’. “I uh, made friends with the lady in the filing rooms at work so sometimes she lets me bring home files from cold cases. I guess I like trying to solve mysteries.”

Jo thought about it and gave a small nod. “Okay, that’s certainly something. Murder mystery novels not a big enough challenge for you huh?”

Dean shrugged. “I might as well read something that actually matters.”

“Ever solve any?”

All of them. “Not yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“My mom was telling me about a case that’s got everyone at the station pretty wound up. The South Valley Firebug. What do you think of him?”

That he’s a stand up guy. “That he’s a criminal who needs to be brought to justice.”

Jo looked sceptical, but nodded. “Even though he’s only killing bad guys?”

“Murder’s murder,” Dean said, trying not to let his distaste show on his face.

“So my mom said he’s a white male, about six feet tall, medical background and access to police files… it’s not you, is it?” she said, narrowing her eyes playfully.

Dean laughed, trying not to give away his discomfort. “I’m surprised you think I have the passion to be a serial killer.”

Jo gave a small laugh. “Serial killers don’t do it out of passion. You’re just about disconnected enough for it to be true.”

“And what if it was me? Wouldn’t you be scared?”

“No, because I’m not a bad guy,” she smirked.

Dean shrugged. “I could make an exception. You know my secret after all.”

Jo went quiet and stared down at her hands. “Are you going to kill me Dean?” she practically whispered.

Dean was taken aback by how serious she sounded. Fuck, maybe she really did know his secret. He laughed good-naturedly. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, smiling. “Your mom would have my head.”

Jo laughed, but the weird tension between them hung in the air throughout the rest of the meal. They continued to talk about inconsequential things like the weather and Dean’s favourite trashy TV shows, but it was all much more strained than conversation usually was for Dean. They declined dessert and decided not to go out for drinks (Dean had work tomorrow after all) and Dean drove her home.

Usually that was the part of the evening where he and the girl decided having sex on the first date was a really great idea. This time however, he drove Jo straight home and didn’t even get out of the car to see her inside.

“Later Dean,” she said as she opened the car door.

“Bye Jo,” Dean said, and quickly added, “Sorry for coming on so strong earlier. I hope I didn’t make things permanently weird between us.”

Jo turned back to him and gave a sympathetic smile. “It was my fault, I shouldn’t have brought it up. I was worried I’d freaked _you_ out. Accusing someone of being a serial killer isn’t really a good first date move.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

Jo gave him a more genuine smile. “Maybe we’ll see each other again soon to clear the air?” she suggested, before hopping out of the car. “Bye!” she said, and slammed the door behind her.

“Great…” Dean said to himself, unsure how good an idea another dinner with Jo would be.

-o-o-

Dean had to admit, it was sort of nice having another person in his bed, even if it was his brother. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shared a bed with anyone for more than a night. What he didn’t expect was for Sam to be so handsy! If it hadn’t been for Sam’s awkwardness the next morning, he’d almost think he’d imagined the whole thing. Not that he minded. And even though some maniac was out to get him, Sam was sound asleep. His own serial killer lying next to him, keeping him safe.

Dean lay on his side, mentally planning his next kill (his own version of counting sheep) when he realised Sam was not quite as asleep as Dean had thought. He’d become slightly restless, pulling a little on the sheets and moving his legs a bit, but gradually the movement took on a more regular rhythm. If Dean wasn’t mistaken, Sam was jacking off with a foot of space between them.

Dean really was surprised by Sam’s behaviour lately. He was always so practical and straight laced and well, just straight, yet last night he’d almost groped his brother’s balls and now he was shamelessly jerking off in his presence. Dean was no expert, but that didn’t seem normal.

Sam’s breathing seemed relatively normal and soon, his movements became gradually lazier. Dean would almost have thought he knew Dean was awake and was trying to keep quiet. He guessed he wasn’t having much luck getting off. After a while, he gave a defeated sigh and stopped completely.

Assuming the disruption was over, Dean closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep. Sam may have blue balls, but that was his problem! Dean had work tomorrow.

He was just beginning to drift off when Sam shifted and turned over in the bed. For such a tall guy, he was usually pretty graceful, but sometimes there was no hiding the awkwardness. The whole bed moved and the mattress dipped as Sam turned towards his brother and settled right up against his back like they were spooning.

Dean froze. If Sam was asleep, he didn’t want to wake him. If he was awake, he didn’t want to embarrass him. That was bound to lead to an awkward conversation.

Sam seemed to be getting even closer, apparently determined to make as much contact as physically possible. It wasn’t long before Dean was able to feel the unmistakable feeling of Sam’s erection pressing against his butt. Poor guy. Dean was almost tempted to reach back and give him a hand, but then he’d already committed to pretending to sleep. As the pressure on his butt came and went, he realised Sam was trying to rub one out on his ass. (Honestly, he was suddenly getting more action from his brother than on his date with Jo!)

Not that he cared all that much, but it was pretty presumptuous of Sam to think he could just hump him in his sleep. What was in it for him? Shouldn’t he get something out of it? He suddenly found himself caring quite a bit.

He inched forward, trying to avoid the press of Sam’s body, but it didn’t slow him down. If anything, it just spurred him on. The slide of his cock between Dean’s cheeks becoming even more frantic.

“Cut it out Sam,” Dean muttered angrily.

Sam stopped moving almost immediately. “Sorry,” he said quickly, and turned away.”

“It’s fine, just ask next time. And get some sleep.” It wasn’t until Dean shifted back into a more comfortable position that he realised his dick was hard too.


	19. Chapter 19

“I have a few things to do after work,” Dean had told him. Sam hadn’t thought to question him at the time because really, what business had it been of his? Sam wasn’t really sure what he was trying to prove, but at least if someone did start looking into Dean, Sam would have an alibi to hand.

There wasn’t any way of knowing where Dean had gone. At least, no way that didn’t let everyone know what he was doing…at least no legal way. Sam looked down at the mess of notes on his desk. He probably wasn’t going to make any more progress today anyway, he might as well put in a call to AT&T and see what they could tell him. He dialled the number for Colorado on the company website and after navigating dozens of menu trees and speaking to three people, he eventually got through to someone who could supposedly help him.

“So what can I do for you?” a cheery man’s voice said on the other end.

“My name’s Detective Sam Winchester, I was hoping to get some historical location data to help with an ongoing investigation.”

At the next desk over, Ellen gave him a questioning look. Sam gave her a dismissive wave of his hand and turned his chair away from her.

“Okay detective, that won’t be a problem. We just need you to email or fax over a warrant along with the details of your request.”

Sam knew it was coming, but he was still disappointed. “Ah. Well see, I don’t actually have a warrant.”

The man didn’t seem phased, “Well then in that case we’ll need permission from whoever owns the phone.”

Sam sighed theatrically. “Look, I gotta level with you. My brother lost his phone and I told him I’d try and help him track it down…like I’ve nothing better to do.”

There was a pause before the guy said. “Okay then Detective. I’ll need to speak to your brother, ask him some data protection questions to confirm his identity and then I’ll see what I can do for you. Does that sound okay?”

Sam grinned, “That sounds perfect.” He put on his best Dean voice and answered the questions with ease before giving the guy his email address. The report would be emailed to him by the end of the day.

He had barely hung up the phone before he was accosted by Ellen.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” she asked, blocking his escape route.

“Nothing,” he said, standing up. He stupidly hoped his height would intimidate her… It didn’t.

“It sounded like you’re snooping on your brother,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

Sam sat back down, knowing there was no point in arguing.

“Look Sam, I know what you’re thinking. I thought it too for like, a second before I remembered who we’re talking about.” She sat down on the chair by Sam’s deck and put a reassuring hand on his knee. “Look Sam, your brother is a lot of things, but he ain’t no serial killer.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right,” Sam said, nodding. “I just know I’ll sleep a little sounder if I have proof.” Poor choice of words, but Ellen wasn’t to know.

“Careful Sam, you can’t prove someone didn’t do something.” Ellen said, heading back to her desk.

The rest of the afternoon, Sam obsessively watched the foot traffic to and from the kitchen. He was hoping to talk to Gabriel, but Dean hadn’t left the lab all day. A soon as Sam was sure Gabe was the only person in the kitchen, he walked over as fast as he could before he got away. “Hey Gabriel,” he said, barely inside the door.

“Hey Sammy,” Gabe said, obviously put off by Sam’s sudden appearance.

“Can I talk to you for a minute? I wanna ask you about Dean,” Sam said, gesturing at the table and chairs provided in the kitchen.

“Uh, sure,” Gabriel said, sitting down but still unsure, “but I don’t know what I can tell you that you wouldn’t already know.”

Sam shrugged. “You spend more time with him than anyone else,” Sam started, not sure how to work his question without raising suspicion.

Gabriel raised a hand before Sam had a chance to say anything. “Look Sam, I know what you’re doing. I’m a foot shorter than the description and people have been asking me weird questions all day.”

Sam sighed. “It was an easy conclusion to jump to.”

“Look kiddo, the only think Dean’s hiding is a smoking habit,” Gabe said before grabbing his coffee and standing up. “And maybe an affair with the chick in filing.”

Sam paused to consider what Gabe had just said. “Smoking habit?”

“Yeah, his clothes stink of it sometimes. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed.”

“And there’s a chick in filing?”

“Yeah,” Gabe said, half out the door. “Apparently they bonded over key-lime pie.” And with that, he was gone.

Before going back to his desk, Sam decided to go upstairs to meet the girl Dean’s been spending so much time with. Sam hadn’t been up there in years. These days, they had a porter for that kind of thing and everything important was computerised anyway.

The whole fourth floor was dedicated to filing, and when Sam opened the door at the top of the stairs, he was immediately greeted by a stable door with a small ledge and a sign-out book balanced on top. A woman sitting behind the door gave him a suspicious look.

“We don’t see many detectives up here,” she said, eyeing the badge on his belt. “Something I can help you with?”

Sam gave her a warm smile. “Hi there… Missouri,” he said, reading the laminated ID around her neck. “I hope you’ll be able to help me.” He leaned on the door and looked embarrassed. “My brother Dean asked me to come and pick up a file he accidentally returned before he was finished with it, but I’ll be damned if I can remember what it was.”

Missouri eyed him sceptically. “You’re Dean’s brother?”

“Yeah, you know him?” Sam asked hopefully.

“Sure do. That boy owes me a pie. You be sure to tell him that.”

Sam snorted. “Will do. I don’t suppose you can remember what file he checked out last?”

“Don’t be stupid. Have you any idea how many files get checked out of here every day?” Sam had the good sense to look embarrassed. “But I can check for you.” She got up from her chair and disappeared behind a wall.

Perhaps Sam was right to assume Dean was visiting the fourth floor for the files and not the girls. He didn’t know what he was going to find or why he was here at all, but maybe he would find something to put his mind to rest.

Missouri returned a few minutes later with a file in her hand. “You got here just in time. It hadn’t been returned to the stacks yet.” Sam held out his hand to take it before it was whipped away. “You owe me,” she added.

“Thank you,” Sam said, taking the file. He signed the file out in the log book and thanked the woman again before heading back downstairs. As soon as he was a safe distance down the stairwell, he flipped open the front page of the file. He was almost disappointed when he read the name ‘Ephraim Holmes’ on the front page. It was recently closed case, Dean had worked on it… there was nothing unusual about him having that file. ‘It’s a good thing,’ Sam reminded himself. He was trying to prove his brother _wasn’t_ a serial killer.

Ellen narrowed her eyes at him when he returned to his desk. He stuffed the file in his drawer and decided there was no need to tell Ellen what he’d just done. In the time it had taken him to speak to Gabe and check out the filing floor, an email had arrived from the guy at AT&T. Feeling a little nervous, he opened the email and downloaded the file.

First, he looked at the night Garth Fitzgerald saw the killer in the woods. Dean had sent him a text message that night saying he’d be late for dinner, and Sam quickly found it on the report. It had bounced off a cell tower outside town, a couple of miles from the mass grave they found. Dean had said he’d hit an elk that night which could well be true, but it didn’t explain what he was doing there in the first place. Sam looked at the data from the night before. Apparently Dean had been in a little village about an hour out of town. Sam had never been, but the name was familiar for some reason. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why. According to the report, Dean was still there at 3.45am.

Sam sat back in his chair and rubbed his temples. This didn’t look good. It didn’t exactly prove anything, but it was sure as hell looking suspicious.

“Ellen? When did they say Dick Roman first went missing?” Sam asked casually.

“Why?” Ellen said suspiciously, probably knowing full well what Sam was doing.

“Just…checking in case there’s anyone else we could question about it.”

“Uh huh…” she said, sounding unconvinced. “April 26th in Colorado Springs was his last Seminar.”

Sam’s heart sank a little. He remembered Dean going away for a conference some time in April. Gabe couldn’t go because someone had to stay behind and cover. Taking a tenuous breath, Sam checked the phone data for that weekend. Dean had made two calls that day… both in Colorado Springs.

-o-o-

Sam couldn’t help feeling a little uncomfortable around Dean the rest of the day. It’s not like he had any proof of anything. It was still just a hunch he hadn’t disproved. Still…

He didn’t talk much through dinner, but Dean didn’t seem to mind. He wasn’t much of a talker to begin with. He did point out Sam’s silence, but it was more matter-of-fact than annoyance or worse, suspicion.

They spent the rest of the night apart in their own bedrooms. Sam had brought a few files home to read over Garth’s statement one more time. It wasn’t going to change any time soon and he couldn’t put off writing it up forever but he just wanted to be really sure.

Before he knew it, it was after midnight and unsurprisingly, he hadn’t made any progress. He packed away all his work and changed into a t-shirt for sleeping. Walking quietly to Dean’s room, he hoped to find him ready for bed, or better yet, already asleep. He pushed the door open and discovered his brother under the covers with his eyes closed. “Dean?” he whispered, cringing at how loud his voice sounded.

Dean gave no reply so Sam had to assume he was already asleep. Thank God. He pulled the door closed behind him and sat down on what had become his side of the bed. Surrounded by darkness, all he could think about was how he’d spent the day trying to prove his brother was a serial killer. Now he was about to sleep in his bed. For protection apparently.

He sat there for what must have been almost half an hour, trying to clear his head. It felt almost meditative. He’d almost forgotten Dean was there until the bed dipped and suddenly his brother was sitting on his knees behind Sam’s shoulder. Sam let out a small gasp when he felt Dean’s breath on his neck.

“Are you coming to bed or are you just going to sit here all night?” he murmured in Sam’s ear.

“I’m coming to bed,” Sam said, closing his eyes as Dean’s lips ghosted over the side of his neck.

Dean moved back, giving Sam space to lie down. Sam pulled his feet up into the bed and dragged the covers over himself. The mattress beside him moved again and Dean was soon pressed up against his back, spooning him. Sam tried not to get himself too worked up. They’d woken up like this before and it was undeniably pleasant. It didn’t mean anything.

He started to reevaluate that conclusion when Dean snaked his hand around Sam’s side and settled on his chest under his shirt. He started rubbing little circles on Sam’s skin, and while it sure felt nice, it was kind of strange for Dean. It wasn’t until Dean started grinding his dick against Sam’s ass that he decided to say something. “What are you doing?” he said quietly.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Dean replied, gripping one of Sam’s pecs tightly. “You’re too much of a little bitch to make a move, so I’m doing it for you.”

“Dean, stop,” Sam said, trying to sound firm. “I’m your brother! We can’t do this.”

Dean snorted in Sam’s ear. “Is that who you are? I thought you were the guy who shares my bed and gropes me and dry humps me in my sleep. You wanna talk about boundaries?” Dean answered snidely. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you and I’ll stop.”

Sam couldn’t stop the little gasp that escaped his lips. “I don’t want you to fuck me,” he whispered, not believing it himself.

“Liar,” Dean said, but he turned away nonetheless.

Something like disappointment settled in the pit of Sam’s stomach. Was Dean so indifferent that he could just give up so easily? Was this all completely one-sided? “Did you really want to?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Dean sighed. “Look Sammy, I’m horny, you’re apparently always horny, I thought we could help each other out.”

Sam let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “Simple as that huh?”

“It can be, yeah,” Dean said, turning over to face Sam’s back.

Sam could hardly believe what he was hearing. He was struggling with death, serial killers and suspicion, pushing him to some weird attraction to his brother. For Dean it was just ‘We’re both horny, let’s bone’. They would regret it. He knew they would. Incest wasn’t the kind of thing you just bounced back from, but right at that moment, Sam couldn’t have cared less.

He turned around so they were lying face to face. Dean’s apparent lack of connection should have been worrying, but right now, it just meant nothing was standing in the way of Sam getting what he wanted. “Are you sure about this?”

Dean snorted. “Are you?”

Before Sam could change his mind, he rushed forward, pressing his lips to Dean’s. It was awkward at that angle, but Sam made do. He pushed his tongue forward into Dean’s mouth and Dean responded in kind. It was hot and messy, but it quickly had Sam hard in his boxers.

Before Sam even knew what was happening, Dean grabbed hold of his leg and rolled them both over so Sam was straddling his hips. It was by far a better angle and had the added effect of putting their hard cocks in line with one another. Sam shifted uncomfortably, trying not to touch Dean’s cock. For some reason, he’d spent so long worrying about lusting for his brother, he failed to realise he was also lusting after a man.

Barely breaking the kiss, Dean pulled Sam’s t-shirt over his head and Sam raised his arms to let him. After tossing it into the darkness of the room, Dean started tugging at the front of Sam’s sweatpants. Sam pulled away just long enough to take off his sweats and boxers and pull Dean’s down his body. He wasted no time in climbing back into Dean’s lap and kissing him furiously.

He gasped involuntarily when Dean wrapped a hand around his cock and started jacking him slowly. The friction was almost too much for Sam to take. “Hey, you got any lube?” Sam said suddenly.

“No,” Dean said, “why would I have lube?”

“I don’t know, don’t you use it during sex?” Sam said, like it wasn’t obvious.

“I always buy lubed condoms.”

“Okay well… you wanna get one now?” Sam suggested.

“Okay, okay,” Dean grumbled before pushing Sam off him and turning on his bedside lamp. He got up and crossed the room to his dresser and returned seconds later with a condom in hand.

Sam looked up at him silently. For some reason, the light was throwing what they were about to do into stark relief.

Dean rolled his eyes, apparently sensing Sam’s trepidation. “Don’t you wimp out on me now,” he said, joining Sam back on the bed. “You’ll be fine in a few minutes. Get on your hands and knees and let me look at that ass.”

Sam swallowed hard and did as he was told. He lowered his chest to the bed, giving Dean easy access to his hole. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. He absolutely wanted this and it wasn’t like anyone would ever find out. Perhaps it was just the knowledge that what they were doing was so immoral and wrong… not to mention illegal.

Sam heard Dean spit into his hand and braced himself for what was coming next. Moments later, he felt Dean’s fingers at his hole before he plunged two inside without warning. It was a tight squeeze, but Sam relaxed his muscles as much as he could and Dean was soon able to move them more freely. “Another,” Sam told him, and Dean soon pushed a third in along-side them.

“You good?” Dean asked eventually.

“Yeah,” Sam said, and breathed out a happy sigh as Dean pulled out his fingers. “Wait, let me turn over,” he added quickly when he heard Dean rip open the condom wrapper.

Sam had barely rolled onto his back before Dean was in front of him, wrapping Sam’s legs around his waist. With one quick push, the head of his cock was inside and Sam cried out at the feeling. It didn’t hurt, it was just strange. By listening to Sam’s series of grunts and gasps, Dean gradually got his whole cock inside.

The moment Dean started fucking him, he forgot about everything except himself and Dean in that moment. For the first time in a year, his mind was free of burden. He wrapped his legs tightly around his brother and pulled him down into a kiss. It restricted his movement, but somehow, Dean reached even deeper inside him.

Dean broke the kiss and rested his forehead against Sam’s, panting loudly. To Sam, each breath sounded like he was whispering his name. “Sam…Sam…Sam…”

“Without warning, Dean reached down between them and grabbed Sam’s cock. Sam’s eyes rolled back in his head as he started squeezing in time with his thrusts. “Oh my God Dean. I can’t hold it back,” he panted against Dean’s lips.

“Then don’t,” Dean told him.

Within seconds, Sam was coming over Dean’s hand. It seemed to spur Dean on, who started moving in long, deep thrusts.

“Fuck Sammy,” Dean gasped, holding himself inside for a few seconds each time. “So good,” he moaned, and with one last thrust, he was coming too.

They both gasped as Dean pulled out and rolled onto his back beside Sam. Sam stared forward in a state of bliss as they both caught their breath.

“I’ve been wanting you so bad. For longer than I probably realised,” Sam said, turning his head to look at his brother.

Dean tied off the condom and tossed it onto his bedside table. “Well, now you have me,” he said grinning back at Sam.

As Sam came down from his high, the day’s events- all his research, his ‘snooping’- came back to him. He gave Dean a small smile and sighed. “Now I have you.”


	20. Chapter 20

It was best for everyone, Sam convinced himself, if he followed Dean himself. There was no sense drawing unnecessary attention and involving anyone else if this was all just a misunderstanding. This was Dean after all. What were the chances, really, that he was involved?

Sam sat outside their apartment block in a rented car, waiting for Dean to emerge. He’d just told Sam he was going out ‘after work’ but hadn’t offered any information about where or when, so Sam just had to be patient. With a little luck, Dean would just be going on another inexplicable date with Jo. Knowing Dean was just keeping up appearances didn’t stop Sam’s pang of jealousy. The sudden reminder of his new found relationship with his brother did nothing to appease his guilt at following him around and researching him behind his back.

The motion sensitive light in the downstairs hallway came on, pulling Sam’s attention back to their building. Dean emerged moments later carrying what looked like a gym bag and walked around the corner to the small parking lot at the side of the building.

Okay, Sam thought to himself, so he’s probably just going to the gym. Nothing suspicious about that.

After a few minutes, the Impala drove past him, and Sam started the engine. He went the opposite direction around the block to catch Dean at the next junction and avoid attracting his attention.

Dean seemed to be driving towards his gym and Sam relaxed a little. If Dean had been secretly working out more it would certainly explain his absences. He probably didn’t want anyone to know he cares about his appearance. Sam’s heart sank however, when Dean took a turn that definitely did not lead to the gym. In fact, it led straight out of town. Okay, so that was a little suspicious. Dean picked up speed and Sam fell back just far enough that he could keep an eye on Dean’s car and not get spotted.

The more the buildings started to thin out and trees became more prominent, the more Sam worried. There was no reason for Dean to be this far out of town, especially without Sam knowing about it. If it was work related, it would have come up at the office or he would have at least told Sam where he was going.

The road seemed to be surrounded by nothing but forest now, and as Sam closed the gap between himself and the Impala, he realised Dean had slowed down considerably. Sam supposed they were close to his destination and he was looking for some kind of marker. He found it a few miles along the road and made a left turn into a private road. As Sam drive past, he slowed down to read the sign on the gatepost which read “Bender”.

Sam drove on another 500 yards and made a U-turn. He stopped the car on the main road and waited. He didn’t really know what he was waiting _for_ , but hopefully Dean’s business here was perfectly innocent and he would come driving out again soon. After half an hour of waiting, he lost faith in that belief.

He was going to have to get out of the car and see for himself, he realised. He picked up his gun and flashlight from the passenger seat and got out of the car. His eyes had already had time to adjust to the dark so he shoved the flashlight in his jacket pocket, readied his gun and headed into the trees surrounding the private road. He walked for what felt like half a mile before he found any sign of life. He came up on a barn first. There was a window on one side but no light anywhere around it, so he approached it and shined his flashlight through the window and into the darkness.

On a normal day in day light, the scene before him wouldn’t have seemed half as creepy. As it was, he found himself thoroughly freaked out. The barn was almost empty except for three huge empty cages. In such an densely forested area, no one would be farming anything that large and Sam’s imagination began to run away with him. He tried to calm himself by taking a closer look for clues about their inhabitants or owner. Two of the cages had fresh looking water as well as a gross facsimile of food in a bowl. He guessed whatever had been in there wasn’t gone long.

He tore himself away from the window and continued on his path away from the road. The rustling of leaves around him was consistent and unsettling, but he tried to ignore it. These woods were full of elk and other animals, and he was on their territory after all.

Not far from the barn, he came upon a farmhouse. It seemed much more inhabited than the rest of the property. There were lights on in a couple of the windows and cars parked outside…including Dean’s.

Sam took a deep breath as he approached the house. What the hell was Dean doing here? How did he even know these people and why would he lie about going to see them? He walked around to the side of the house trying to find a window to see inside, but the curtains all seemed to be closed. He knew the kind of welcome he could expect if he went up and knocked the front door. These reclusive types were rarely big fans of cops and if they were doing anything they shouldn’t be, Sam didn’t want to give them time to hide it.

He continued to the back of the house and found a door to what he assumed was the kitchen. The windows were all covered with a net curtain and he could just about make out the outline of a man walking around inside. He was almost certain it was Dean, he’d recognise that bow-legged gait anywhere. Just what the hell was going on here?

Sam put his ear to the flimsy wooden door, straining to hear what was going on inside. He could make out two distinct voices, one was Dean and the other he assumed, was Bender. It sounded almost like they were arguing but he couldn’t pick out what they were saying. He scanned the building for another point of entry, but found none. If he was going in, he’d have to ring the doorbell or break down the kitchen door.

He looked around helplessly. What was he even doing here? What exactly did he suspect Dean of doing? He was being suspicious and reckless with little to no solid evidence. He was about to turn back to the car when a scream tore from the house. Without hesitation, he burst through the door, his gun raised.

“Police!” he shouted needlessly. He froze solid at the scene he had just walked in on. A man of about 50 was tied to the kitchen table… at least what was left of him. Somehow he was still alive and Dean was standing over him with a knife.

Dean looked up, he mouth open in surprise but saying nothing. The both knew what was going on, there was no need to say anything.

“Thank God!” the man choked out from the table. “Officer, this man broke into my house and-”

Dean cut him off with a knife to the throat, muttering, “shut the hell up.”

Sam recoiled in horror, taking a step back and grabbing onto the kitchen counter behind him to steady himself. “Jesus Dean!” Sam exclaimed. As if he’d needed any more proof, Dean had just killed a guy right in front of his eyes.


	21. Chapter 21

Dean stands still, looking back at Sam. He has nothing to say to defend himself to him. There’s no explanation that Sam will accept, so he just stays quiet and lets his brother gather his thoughts. He feels that same frustration he felt the night Adam first saw him. The feeling that his most private moment has been interrupted. Dean Discovered.

Sam is looking between Pa Bender’s body and the knife. Dean knows that look. Hell, Dean’s caused that look. It’s the look that says Sam’s brain can’t accept what his eyes are seeing. He opens his mouth to speak a couple of times but no sound comes out. On the fourth attempt he manages, “You’re the Firebug.”

Dean simply shrugs. “I always hated that nickname.”

Sam falls into a chair from around the table, eyes wide. He looks up at Dean again and shakes his head. “I never really thought… Oh God, I need to get out of here,” he says, before clamouring to his feet and stumbling towards the door.

The Demon’s instinct for self-preservation kicks in and whispers ‘stop him’, but there’s no need. Sam stops outside the door and vomits violently on the ground. It does raise some questions in Dean’s mind though.

“Did you follow me here?” he asks irritably. ‘Kill him’, the Demon whispers.

Sam puts his hands on his knees for support and looks at Dean incredulous. “You’ve been acting so strangely, I was trying to prove you _weren’t_ up to something!”

“What are you going to do?” he asks curiously. He already knows what Sam will say. He’s such a dedicated cop.

“I have to turn you in.” Sam says, predictably. He looks once more at the body of Pa Bender, creating more and more of a mess behind him as blood pools on the kitchen floor. That’s going to be a bitch to clean up. Dean can see the cogs in Sam’s head turning as he plays out every possibly scenario. “Are you going to kill me?” he asks quietly.

Why do people keep asking him that? The Demon is suddenly restless, willing Dean to turn the knife on his brother. It would certainly make things a lot more simple. “No,” Dean says, surprising everyone.

Sam watches in silence as Dean finishes with Bender. He stuffs him into some garbage bags and loads them into the trunk of his car, still missing his usual feeling of accomplishment.

“What did he do?” Sam says from his spot beside the door.

Dean stops checking the kitchen floor for evidence to look at Sam. “What?”

“All your… your victims are criminals right? So what did he do?” Sam looks disgusted at the words coming out of his own mouth.

“He was a cannibal,” Dean tells him. “He and his family kidnap people and hunt them like animals.”

“Family?”

“Yeah, they’re out of town right now. They’re just kids.” He’s not a complete monster. He realises then that that’s exactly how Sam is seeing him now. He’s seen the Demon and he didn’t like it. Sam’s version of justice involves punishment and rehabilitation. He can’t face the ugly truth that sometimes, justice means someone has to get their hands dirty. “Can we talk about this at home?” Dean suggests, thinking a more familiar setting might make things easier for Sam. ‘Just kill him,’ The Demon mutters.

Sam looks surprised, like it never occurred to him that going home was an option. “Okay,” he says slowly.

-o-o-

Letting Sam drive seemed like a bad idea, but they didn’t really have a choice. The rest of the Bender family could be back tonight, and Sam’s rental car at a crime scene would definitely draw the wrong kind of attention. So, after a quick stop to dump the body, Dean drove closely behind Sam the whole way back to his apartment.

When they arrived home, Dean went straight to his bedroom to put away his kill-tools. There wasn’t much point in hiding them from Sam any more, so he just tossed them into the bottom of his closet and returned to the living room. He found Sam still lurking by the door, looking around like he was seeing everything for the first time.

“Sit down Sam, you look lost,” Dean suggested.

Sam’s face was white and he looked like he was going to be sick, but he nodded and sat down in an armchair.

Dean sat down on the couch beside him and placed a hand on Sam’s knee in what he presumed was a comforting gesture. “Don’t touch me,” Sam said, and Dean pulled his hand away.

“Is there anything you wanna ask me?” Dean asked, not really sure who should start the conversation.

Sam gave him a disbelieving look before practically shouting, “How could you do this? You’re practically a cop and you just walk around like nothing’s going on!”

“Jeez, keep your voice down Sammy!” Dean said, thinking of his nosey neighbours.

“Well?” Sam said, a little quieter.

Dean thought about it for a moment, trying to think of a way to explain himself that Sam would understand. “I need to. I need it like I need to breathe or eat. There’s this thing inside me that won’t rest until I kill.”

If it was possible, Sam’s face turned even whiter. “For how long?”

“Since I was…seventeen,” Dean said, remembering his first kill fondly. “It was a guy named Hunter. Dad told me about him. He was helping Dad with a case, but it turned out he was just trying to get close to dad and pull him into some real bad shit. There was no proof and the police didn’t even _suspect_ him of anything, so…I took care of it.”

“Dad knew?” Sam said, looking now like he was going to cry.

Dean nodded. “If anything, it was Dad’s idea. He recognised what I was and showed me how to do it and how to cover my tracks. He taught me how to find evidence the police would miss and most importantly, he gave me a code.”

Sam seemed totally speechless. He managed to whisper, “Code?”

“Yeah, ‘the code of John’,” Dean explained sardonically. “I never kill anyone who doesn’t deserve it and without solid evidence.”

“That isn’t up to you Dean!” Sam said, something finally snapping. “And it isn’t up to Dad! Those people deserve a trail! They should have to answer for their crimes.”

Dean laughed cynically, “Come on Sam. No one was ever going to catch these people. They’d have gotten away with it, or worse, continued doing it!”

“What about Ephraim Holmes?” Sam said, “Another couple of days and we’d have caught him!”

Dean sighed. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done but hell, he’d been on a schedule and Holmes had pissed him off. “True, that was unfortunate. I thought he was better at covering his own tracks. I didn’t think he was going to get caught. Such a disappointment.”

“Fucking hell…” Sam said in disbelief.

“Come on Sam. You’re saying you’ve never seen someone walk free that you _knew_ was guilty?”

He seemed to consider it for a few seconds. Dean had seen it happen countless times, and it was bound to have happened too Sam at least once. “I believe in the system Dean,” he said shaking his head. “It works.”

“No it doesn’t Sam. Victims don’t come forward, evidence gets missed or lost, people buy alibis… perpetrators are too good at covering things up.” He hoped Sam would ignore the fact that _he_ was one of the people who had avoided being caught so far. Sam sat in silence for a long time after that. Dean gave him time to think through everything they’d discussed. It was a lot for a normal person to take in.

Eventually Sam stood up. “I need time to process all this,” he said, looking down at Dean. “I’m not going to turn you in right now, I just… need time.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, not meeting Sam’s eyes. “Yeah, go get some sleep. We can talk about it again tomorrow.”

“I’m going to stay in a hotel,” Sam said, and headed for his bedroom.

“Wait, what?” Dean said, hurrying to his feet and following Sam. “Why?”

Sam stopped and turned to face him. “Are you kidding me? Why? I don’t care who you are, I’m not spending another night under the same roof as a serial killer, never mind… God, sleeping in the same bed.”

Within minutes, Sam had packed a bag and was ready to leave. “I’ll see you at work,” he muttered as he passed Dean.

“Don’t do this man. You know I would never hurt you, right?” he pleaded, not entirely convinced by his own words.

“Dean, I can barely look at you right now. This has nothing to do with my safety.” He opened the door and looked back over his shoulder. “Don’t call me, okay?”

Dean just nodded and watched him go. Dean Deserted. There was nothing he could do about it. For the first time since Dad found out about him, his fate was in someone else’s hands.


	22. Chapter 22

Dean was genuinely starting to wonder why no one had come to question him about the Firebug case. It had been four days since they’d been briefed, and Sam had fingered him in two. No one seemed to be in much of a rush to solve the case. (Though maybe it just seemed obvious when you already knew who the killer was)

Sam hadn’t shown up for work this morning for the second day in a row. Dean hadn’t seen or spoken to him since he went to stay in the hotel and he was starting to worry. It was unusual for him to go a whole day without talking to his brother never mind two.

“Can you believe Kristan picked Chris over Danny last night?” Dean said as he sat down beside Castiel in the break room.

Cas looked at him and have an amused grin. “Dean, I’ve told you a hundred times, I don’t watch the Bachelorette.”

“Aww , you’re missing out man! This guy was a total asshole but he sweet-talked her into picking him with some sob-story about his parents farm. She should have known better.”

Cas rolled his eyes and said his lines as always. “That’s terrible Dean.”

“I know, right?” Dean said before taking a bite out of a doughnut.

“So how’s Sam doing?” Cas asked, looking genuinely concerned. “It’s not like him to miss work.”

Dean considered telling Cas the truth. At least the part about them fighting and Sam going to stay in a hotel, (He would probably have found out sooner or later anyway) but he decided against it. Now wasn’t a good time to shine a spotlight on his personal life. “He seems to be improving,” he said instead, “but he hasn’t come out of his room much… or eaten any of my food.”

Cas gave a sympathetic smile. “Tell him I asked, okay? We really miss him around here.”

“Sure thing,” Dean replied.

Dean was left alone when Cas’ coffee break ended five minutes later, giving him time to do some quick research on his phone. He’d decided tonight he was going to take a look at ‘Garth’s’ cabin in the woods, so he took some time to pinpoint its exact location on Google maps. He’d gotten the address from his first statement, now he just needed to figure out which dot among the trees was a house.

Before he had made any progress, his phone started vibrating in his hand. Sam was calling. He looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear his call before answering. “Hello?”

“Hey Dean,” Sam said, sounding rough. “I wanted to talk to you about something. You busy?”

“Dean had a pretty good idea what that ‘something’ was, and was in no mood to discuss it, but he guessed it was probably better to get it over with. “Not really. You want me to come meet you?”

“I’m at the coffee shop across the street,” Sam said. “Come alone.”

Dean snorted, “Come alone? Are you kidding me?”

“Dean, this is serious,” Sam said humorlessly.

“Sorry. I’ll be there in five minutes. Order me an espresso.”

Dean found Sam sitting in the corner of the coffee shop looking surprisingly smart. If Dean hadn’t known better, he might have assumed he was on a break from work. “Hey Dean,” he said, pushing out the chair opposite him, only his voice giving away how little he had slept.

“How are you?” Dean asked, actually curious for once.

“How do you think?” Sam snorted. “My life’s a mess, my brother’s a serial killer and I can’t sleep at night without him next him next to me any more.”

“Jesus Sam, keep your voice down,” Dean hissed. If he was being honest, he hadn’t slept quite as well since Sam left either. “So uh, what did you wanna talk about?”

“Oh right,” Sam said, shaking himself. “I just wanted…we…” He sighed. “This has been an awful lot to get my head around.”

Dean nodded, not wanting to interrupt Sam now that he’d got him talking.

“Well first off, I’ve decided I’m not going to turn you in. But—” he said quickly, before Dean had a chance to speak. “I will not lie for you. I will not provide alibis. If anyone else realises what’s going on, you’re on your own. Understand?”

Dean let out a breath. “Absolutely. Thank you Sam.”

“I still have trouble believing Dad was okay with it, but if he thought murder could be justice, then I guess maybe… I won’t be okay with it but I think I can come to terms with it.”

Dean was impressed. He had no idea Sam could be so open-minded, especially when it came to the law. For most people, vigilante justice is all well and good in comic books, but in the real world, it was just another thing society couldn’t control. Just one more ‘murderer’ out on the street. “Thank you Sam, that means a lot… Everything.”

Sam nodded, a hint of reluctance shining through. “But I swear to God Dean, if I find out about you faking test results or tampering with evidence, I’ll drag you straight into Bobby’s office.”

Dean could barely believe what he was hearing. It was better than he could ever have hoped for. Now if he could just convince Sam to come home, everything could go back to normal.

“So Sammy, I’ve been thinking,” Dean said, trying to sound casual. “Maybe it would be best if you came home.”

Sam stared into his coffee cup and didn’t say anything. Dean wasn’t even totally sure he’d heard him.

“People have been asking about you at the office and it’s probably a bad idea to draw too much attention.”

Sam gave an hysterical laugh. “That’s all you care about huh? Your cover being blown? God forbid anyone think Dean Winchester’s anything but perfect.”

Dean was taken aback by Sam’s outburst, but really, he shouldn’t have been surprised. He thought he’d deciphered Dean’s Demons and if he was anyone else, he’d probably have been right. “Are you kidding me? Sam, you are literally the only person in the world that I actually care about. Plus, I really hate the idea of you staying in a hotel while some psycho has it out for you. I want you home. I’d do anything for you.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I bet you would.”

“Come on man,” Dean said, defeated, “I’m trying my best here.” Now that Sam knew he wasn’t normal, he _had_ to realise how much of a struggle day to day life was for Dean.

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “I’m probably crazy for saying this…but fine. I’ll come home. But remember what I said- I am not covering for you. I refuse to lie to the police, even for you.”

Dean was flooded with relief. “Thank you. You won’t regret it, I swear.”

“I’ll be home tonight. And tell Bobby I’ll be back at work tomorrow okay?”

-o-o-

Finding Garth’s cabin in the woods hadn’t been as difficult as Dean was expecting. There was a long trail all the way from the road to the house (albeit an overgrown one) and there was even a mailbox marking the entrance.

Dean had made his excuses and slipped out of work a little early. He figured if Adam was living there, he’d be out during the day and he wanted to get there early. He made the journey in under an hour and parked his car off the road a little past the entrance. If Adam came back, he didn’t want to tip him off. After grabbing a pocket knife from the glove compartment, he headed down the dirt road to the cabin. It obviously hadn’t been used much, as Dean had expected. What he hadn’t been expecting was to find Garth’s truck parked outside the cabin. “Damnit, Dean muttered to himself.

At the sound of movement from the back of the house. Dean dived behind a tree and held his breath. He didn’t think he’d been seen, but the way his heart was beating, he was almost worried it would give him away.

“Who’s there?” a voice shouted in his direction.

Dean closed his eyes and willed the man to go away. Instead, he heard footsteps approaching, coming to a stop about 20 feet away from him. Dean kept perfectly still, afraid to so much as blink.

“Someone there?” the man said. Dean could hear him moving around, but he didn’t come any closer.

After what felt like an eternity, the man turned back towards the house and Dean let out his breath. He dared to look around the tree and saw Adam walk back to the house, before diverging completely into the forest.

Dean waited a few minutes and when Adam showed no sign of returning, he took his chance. He crept towards the house, still careful not to be seen, and peeked through the window.

He was able to see almost the whole cabin through that one window. There was a kitchen beyond a small archway on the other side of the building, but his bedroom and living room were all contained in the largest part of the cabin. It looked like no one had lived in it full time in months. Dean couldn’t help wondering what happened to the real Garth Fitzgerald. Seeing no sign of life, Dean made his way to the door and found it unlocked. Searching the place wouldn’t take long at least.

Within minutes, Dean found a large box-file in one of the kitchen cabinets. He brought it to the folding table in the middle of the room before opening it. With one quick look out the window, Dean opened the file. It was almost empty except for a couple of manila folders. He flipped open the first one and almost dropped it when he read the title of the page. ‘Sam Winchester - First Session’. As he scanned the first page, he quickly realised why he had apparently stolen copies of Sam’s session notes. He had described it to the shrink, in detail. Ruby’s death, right down to the pizza in the oven.

So Adam had killed his mom and then for some reason, went to great lengths to make it look like a crime scene from a year earlier. As Dean flipped through the folder he quickly realised this guy was some kind of stalker. He had information on Sam’s whole life. His job, his friends, his girlfriends, his old address. Dean took a couple of photos on his phone before putting the folder on Sam back in the box. Unsurprisingly, he had an equally detailed file on Dean as well. What took him by surprise was the file on their dad. What the hell did John Winchester have to do with any of it?

Before Dean had a chance to think about it, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone or something was outside the cabin. Dean quickly realised he didn’t have time to put the box file back where he found it. When he saw Adam walk past the window towards the front door, he grabbed the pile of folders and papers from the table and slid out the back door of the cabin. As he closed the door behind him, he head Adam open the front door and hoped to God it was enough to cover the noise.

Rather than stick around to find out, he bolted for the cover of the trees and ran as fast as he could back to the car.


	23. Chapter 23

Sam was having trouble remembering why he’d agreed to this. He’d been sitting on the couch for almost an hour waiting for Dean to come home from work. It wasn’t unusual for him to make steps on his way home from work, or to stay a little late, but he’d practically begged Sam to come home and Sam had expected him to be there. He’d tried calling his cell phone, but it was out of range, making Sam’s imagination go wild.

When he eventually did get home, he strolled through the door, dropped his bag and a black box file before he collapsed on the couch next to Sam. “Hey,” he said, like there was nothing unusual going on.

“Dean…where have you been? I expected you home over an hour ago,” Sam said, incredulous.

“I was working late.”

“No you weren’t,” Sam said, having predicted that excuse, “Bobby said you left work early.”

Dean was quiet for a couple of awkward seconds. “It wasn’t that kind of work.”

“Oh,” Sam said, not sure he wanted to continue the conversation.

Dean, apparently sensing his discomfort added, “I didn’t kill anyone. I was just doing some research.”

“Research,” Sam repeated. “Okay.”

Dean shrugged. “Look Sam, I can go back to keeping secrets if you want…”

Sam gave a heavy sigh. Less than a week ago he’d had a pretty normal life. Tragic sure, but normal. Now, suddenly everything was different and there was nothing he could do about it. He’d seen the truth and he didn’t like it and now he couldn’t go back to sleep. “Just….at least tell me you’re not keeping anything important from me.”

“I’m not,” Dean said seriously.

Sam immediately believed him before remembering what a good liar he was. “I’m too exhausted to even argue,” he said, rubbing his face. I haven’t slept since I left.” It was so ridiculous. He’d lost sleep over two serial killers and one of them had turned out to be the only thing helping him get any sleep at all.

Finally, the events of the past week, the past year, the exhaustion, everything hit Sam at once and he burst into tears. Dean didn’t move, allowing Sam to just get it out of his system. Sometimes Sam liked to be left alone, but sometimes he just wanted a damn hug!

“Actually, I do have something to tell you,” Dean said, not looking at Sam.

Sam looked up, almost afraid of what Dean was going to say. “What is it?”

“Garth Fitzgerald,” Dean began.

“They guy who witnessed the Firebug… I mean you,” Sam asked curiously before it turned to dread. “Oh God Dean, what did you do to him?”

“Nothing!” Dean said quickly. “I swear to God, I didn’t kill him. Though, I guess he might already be dead.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“The guy who came to the station, the one who got a job at your psychiatrist’s office, that’s not Garth Fitzgerald.”

Sam was thrown, he wasn’t expecting _that_. “Huh? Then who is he? Why would he lie about his identity?”

“Did anyone ever talk to the family for Kate Milligan?” Dean asked suddenly.

Sam was caught off guard again, confused about what the connection was. “Uh, her brother came in to give us background and to try and help us connect her to Ruby.”

“But you never saw her son?” Sam shook his head. “That’s because he was busy pretending to be our friend, Garth Fitzgerald.”

Sam’s mind went crazy. What did all this mean? The relative of a victim in one case was the key witness in another. The same guy that helped expose Dean as a serial killer had a loved one killed the same way as Sam.

“I think Adam killed his mom and Dr Cosby, but I haven’t been able to prove it yet.”

“Because if you could, he’d probably already be dead?”

Dean sighed. “If the police can still catch him, then I won’t touch him.”

Sam nodded. It was going to be difficult to prove, but it was certainly a lead he could follow up on. “Thanks for telling me Dean. I don’t know where I’m going to say I got the idea from…”

“Looking into relatives of the victim isn’t that unusual. He was just missed because he was supposedly out of state at the time,” Dean pointed out.

Sam couldn’t help resenting Dean a little at that moment. He’d figured all that out by breaking the law and keeping secrets. Sometimes being a cop was so restrictive. “I’m gonna go take a nap,” Sam said, standing up. “I need to let all this sink in. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“Your room?” Dean said, standing up as well.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t think I was gonna come crawling back into your bed did you?” Sam said, folding his arms.

“Well, yeah,” Dean said, sounding a lot more disappointed than Sam thought he was capable of. “You said you hadn’t slept and that I helped you sleep…”

Sam suddenly felt like he didn’t know what to do with his hands. He put them in his pockets and shrugged. “I keep telling myself I can’t shared a bed with a serial killer,” Sam admitted, “but the truth is, I just don’t trust myself not to take advantage of… the situation.”

Dean looked confused. “What? You’re saying you can’t keep your hands off me?”

“Pretty much.”

Dean took a couple of steps towards him, invading his personal space. “Then don’t,” he suggested.

Sam closed his eyes and turned his head away. “Dean, stop this. It was bad enough before, but now, knowing what you are…”

Dean got a look on his face somewhere between offense and anger. Taking Sam completely by surprise, he rushed forward and pushed Sam up against the wall with both hands. “Tell me you want this,” he said seriously.

Sam tried to slide out of Dean’s grip but found himself trapped. “Would it matter?”

“Of course,” Dean said, looking surprised. “I’m not so sure about you any more, but I ain’t no rapist.”

Sam cringed at Dean’s words. He had definitely crossed a line with Dean, more than once. “I want this,” he sighed.

Dean leaned forward and surprised him once more by kissing him. Dean was always reluctant to so much as hug him, never mind kissing. There was nothing tender about it though. It was frantic and messy and left no doubt as to where this was headed. “Wait here,” Dean said, pulling away and finally taking his hands off Sam’s chest. “I’ll be right back.”

A little part of Sam was tempted to run when Dean left him alone in the living room, but the slightly scared and excited part kept him firmly rooted in place. He hated himself for being so desperate, but when Dean was so willing, who was he to turn him down?

Dean returned moments later with a condom and a tube of KY Jelly. Sam had to admire his preparedness this time. “Face the wall,” Dean instructed, before snaking his hands around Sam’s hips and opening his fly. He pulled down the back of Sam’s pants just enough to expose his hole and quickly went to work opening his up. Sam pushed his ass out, trying to give Dean a better angle, which had the added benefit of grazing Dean’s fingers over his prostate each time they moved.

By the time Dean pulled his fingers out, Sam was already panting heavily and rock hard in his boxers. As Sam braced himself against the wall, he could hear Dean unbuckle his belt and unzip the fly of his jeans. The next thing he knew, Dean’s cock was pressing against his hole and Dean was pulling him back onto it with his hands on Sam’s hips.

They fucked in that position until Sam’s back was sore. Then, as if sensing Sam’s discomfort, Dean pushed him flat against the wall. Sam could feel his breath on the back of his neck and then Dean’s stubble on his jaw as Dean rested his cheek against Sam’s.

Sam’s cock was still trapped in his boxers, and in this position, he was able to press himself against the wall, practically humping it for friction.

Sam could tell Dean was close to coming when he placed a hand flat on Sam’s stomach and held them both together. Sam quickly plunged his hand into his pants and stroked his cock frantically, not wanting to be left behind. They came almost in unison, panting each other’s names.

After Dean had pulled out, Sam turned to lean against the wall and catch his breath. Dean tied off the condom and fastened his jeans, giving Sam a little grin.

Sam had needed that more than he cared to admit. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he needed sleep. “I’m so tired,” he said breathlessly.

“Then let’s get you to bed,” Dean suggested, taking him by the hand and leading him towards his bedroom.

Sam hated how easily he could be won over, but he was too tired to care right now. And if Dean could help him find Ruby’s killer, maybe it would be worth it after all.


	24. Chapter 24

Dean awoke with a start when the light in his room came on. He lifted his head to look around and quickly realised Sam was no longer in bed beside him. The big dolt had probably turned the light on by mistake when he got up to go to the bathroom or something. Dean buried his face in his pillow and closed his eyes, waiting for him to come back.

“You two are even more fucked up than I realised.”

Dean’s eyes flew open and he sat bolt upright at the strange voice in his room. Adam was standing in the doorway by the light switch looking smugly down at Dean. “Adam?”

He didn’t look at all surprised that Dean knew his real identity. “Hiya Dean,” he said calmly.

“What are you doing here? Where the hell’s Sam?” Dean asked, vaguely annoyed. He climbed out of bed and calmly pulled on a t-shirt. Nothing woke you up quite like a stranger in your room at 3am.

“I’m glad you asked!” Adam replied, becoming suddenly animated. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Since you didn’t have a kitchen table, I had to improvise.”

Dean’s knew what he was going to find, but he still rolled his eyes when he walked out towards the kitchen. “You crazy son of a bitch, what is this supposed to be?” Adam had pulled the coffee table into the kitchen are and Sam was lying bound and gagged on his back. When he saw Dean, he started trying to scream through the gag.

“Isn’t this nice?” Adam said dreamily. “All the family together?”

“What are you talking about?” Dean said, already sick of the guy’s shit. He made his way towards Sam and when the guy didn’t stop him, he bent down and removed the gag.

“What the fuck Dean?” Sam muttered when he was able to speak. “Who is this guy really?”

“It’s a Winchester family trait, isn’t it?” Adam said, “Dean the serial killer, Sam in love with his brother… Gotta admit, that one took me by surprise, and then John Winchester, the adulterer.”

Dean and Sam shared a sceptical look.

Adam snorted. “Oh no, not family man John Winchester!” he mocked, “Cop for 30 years, taught his son how to get away with murder. That guy could never have a secret family.”

Even without Adam pointing out the absurdity of their doubt, he knew it was true. All the pieces started to fall into place.

“I didn’t want _this_ ,” he said, gesturing to Sam’s bound form. “All I wanted was a family. Older brothers to hang out with, who would buy me my first beer! Imagine my surprise when I found you Dean. Someone with darkness inside them, just like me.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He couldn’t blame the kid. At that age he’d have killed for someone to talk to, so to speak.

“You’re nothing like him,” Sam told Adam. “You killed innocent people for no reason.”

“It wasn’t for no reason,” Adam pointed out. “It was to lure you both out. Once I realised what had happened to Sam’s little girlfriend, it was impossible to resist.”

“What are you talking about?” Sam said, looking up at Dean.

Damnit. Of Course Sam picked up on that. It was such an obsession for him, Dean was surprised he hadn’t worked it out himself.

Adam looked positively gleeful. “Do you want to tell him, or shall I?” he asked with a grin.

“Adam…” Dean warned.

“Big bro killed your girlfriend Sammy,” Adam said with false sympathy.

“No…” Sam said, momentarily speechless.

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t need this right now. Before Sam had a chance to say anything, Dean put the gag back over his mouth. “I’m sorry Sam. We can talk about it later.”

Sam started screaming into the gag again and soon, tears started streaming down his face. Dean did his best to ignore him, but quickly realised he was feeling something he assumed was guilt.

“Forget about him,” Adam said. “You don’t need him any more. You’ve got me now.”

Dean snorted. “And why would I want you?” He finally left Sam’s side and stood in front of Adam, essentially blocking his view of Sam.

“Because now you have me. I can help you. We can help each other! And I sure as hell won’t turn you in to the police. Just let me take Sam out of the picture, okay?”

Dean stood and watched as Adam pulled three syringes out of his jacket pocket. Dean couldn’t bring himself to look at Sam, but he hadn’t stopped yelling into the gag since Adam told him about Ruby. There wasn’t a hope in hell of him letting that one go. When he could disconnect himself from the crime, then sure! It was just a couple more criminals off the street. But Ruby was personal. Dean was going to jail. A voice in the back of his head told him to just let Adam get on with it.

Adam knelt down beside Sam and took the cap off the first one. Dean sort of wondered if three would be enough to sedate someone as big as Sam.

“How did you find out about me?” Dean asked, genuinely curious.

“You kidding?” Adam snorted. “I’ve been watching you for over a year. You killed someone within the first five days. I’ve been watching you burn bodies ever since I killed that creep Garth and moved into his cabin.”

Dean shuddered to himself. The smoke was probably like a beacon to someone living so close by. He felt that same feeling of intrusion from the first night he’d been seen and it made him angry. Angry at the two men in front of him for discovering his secret. He watched silently as he stuck the first needle into Sam’s neck and Sam screamed once more. He should just kill them both, he thought to himself. Sam was going to hand him over to the police for sure. Then that son of a bitch who would kill innocent people just for attention.

In the end, he decided to focus on Adam for now. He fit the code after all. Before Adam could stick Sam with the second needle, Dean lunged for it and tried to knock it out of his hand. Adam was quicker than he expected and moved his hand away, but not quick enough to stop Dean’s full force knocking him to the ground. After a brief struggle, Dean found himself trapped against the wall with Adam pushing on his neck.

“I’m your equal brother,” Adam was saying as Dean struggled to Pull air into his lungs. “Some day you’ll see that.” Dean didn’t need to see it to know what the pain in his neck was. He was already feeling drowsy from the lack of air, but as the morphine quickly took effect, he stopped struggling.

He was vaguely aware of Adam injecting him with the last syringe and dropping it to the floor beside him. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Adam’s legs moving towards Sam.

-o-o-

“Dean? Come on Dean, wake up.”

Dean’s head felt like it was full of sand when he awoke to Cas shaking him and calling his name. Dean opened his eyes and realised he was in his apartment. “Cas? What are you doing here?”

“Oh thank God,” Cas sighed. “One of your neighbours called in a noise complaint. The dispatcher recognised the address and called me.”

Slowly Dean started to remember what had happened. “Sam,” Dean gasped, sitting up faster than he should have. “Is Sam okay?”

“He’s fine,” Cas assured him, helping him sit up against the wall. “He’s in his room getting checked out by a medic.”

“Oh. Thank God,” Dean said, trying to let himself relax a bit.

“What the hell happened in here?” Cas asked, looking confused at the scene surrounding them.

Dean didn’t know what to say. He barely believed it himself. “Remember Kate Milligan? Well she was killed by her son. And Garth Fitzgerald?”

“The witness in the Firebug case?”

Dean nodded. “They’re the same guy. And here’s the kicker… he’s Sam’s and my half brother.”

Cas looked even more confused. “Are you serious?” he practically laughed.

“’Fraid so,” Dean said, “and he was out for revenge on the father that abandoned him.”

Cas seemed unphased. “I’ll have the room checked for evidence in the morning, but I’m afraid there’s no sign of the attacker.”

“Adam,” Dean supplied.

“Adam…” Cas repeated. He looked Dean over with a worried expression. “I’m going to have someone check you over. Wait here.”

Dean watched Cas leave his line of sight before closing his eyes. This whole thing had been a nightmare, but at least now he knew who he was really hunting.

“Sam, how are you feeling?” Cas said from the other side of the wall.

“Sergeant,” Sam said, sounding serious. “I know who killed Ruby.”

“Okay Sam,” Cas said calmly. “That’s good. In the morning we can get your statement and I’ll issue a BOLO for Adam right now.”

“No, not Adam.” Dean’s heart sank as he hear footsteps approaching. It was over. “There he is. Arrest him,” he said, pointing at Dean.

Cas hesitated, looking back and forth between them. “You’re serious?”

“You’re damn right I’m serious.”

Cas still didn’t move, apparently waiting for the punch line.

Dean didn’t say anything. There was no proof he’d killed Ruby. As long as Sam didn’t mention—

“Oh yeah, and he’s the South Valley Firebug.”

Cas didn’t move. He clearly had no idea what to say or do. Dean sighed, resigned to his fate. “It’s true Cas,” he said, struggling awkwardly to his feet. He held his wrists together in front of him. “Might as well get it over with.”

Next thing he knew, a bewildered Castiel was reading him his rights.


	25. Chapter 25

After his arraignment, Dean was sent to solitary confinement at Community Corrections. The only people he’d had any real contact with were his guard slash baby sitter and a nervous, overworked man calling himself a lawyer. Bernie, the lawyer looked like he might faint when he read the list of charges. When Dean had pled guilty, he never saw a man look so relieved and then immediately so terrified. Dean decided to enjoy it while he could. He so rarely got a chance to savour the terror in another person’s eyes. One of the downsides to keeping his hobby a secret all these years.

If nothing else, solitary confinement gave him plenty of time to think. At first, he’d thought about all the people he was going to kill and how. Top of his to do list was Adam. He had a pretty comfortable gig until that little twerp came along and Dean was dying to get his hands on him.

Then, on the subject of fratricide, there was Sam. John had always taught him there’s nothing and no one more important than family; even before he knew what a difficult concept that would be for Dean. Yet here he was, in prison thank to his so-called brother. The first sign of difficulty and Sam had turned on him. As much as handed him a life sentence over _Ruby_ of all people.

Killing Sam had never even crossed his mind before. He was off-limits and both Dean and the Demon had accepted that… but why? Sure, he was one of the few people Dean could actually bear to be around. And sure, there was the hot sex, but that was sure as hell out the window. The truth was, without Sam, he wouldn’t be in this mess and his life up to now would have been a hell of a lot easier.

Dean shook himself. He was being ridiculous. Plotting revenge was the domain of the emotional and Dean did not feel emotions. Not to mention that fact that Sam was yet to visit him, which made killing him considerably harder. There was nothing for Dean to do but sit and wait for the guard to come and tell him it was time for exercise, at which point he’d be taken alone to the yard where he stood in the rain and waited to be taken back inside. He thought about his former colleagues. Searching his house for evidence… Gabe checking his kill tools for prints. Uncle Bobby making a statement on the news about how he was “quiet and kept himself to himself”. Ellen realising she was right to try and keep Jo away from him. It was unbearable.

Eventually someone did come to see him. The guard came into Dean’s cell early one morning and informed him he had a visitor. When Dean asked who it was he simply shrugged, but Dean was curious enough to follow him anyway. He was led to the visiting room and told to sit in a chair in front of a thick pane of glass. (In case Dean tried to strangle his only company with his bare hands or something) He picked up the phone on the wall to his left and smiled wryly at the man on the other side of the glass. “Well, if it isn’t my arresting officer,” he said into the phone.

Castiel frowned back at him. “Hello Dean,” he began.

“Here to make sure you did a thorough job?”

Cas sighed. “Of course not. I’m here to try and help get you out.”

Dean leaned forward. Now that could be helpful. “You are huh? You gonna bake a file into a cake for me or something?”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I mean the legal way Dean.”

Dean deflated a little. Of course he didn’t really think Cas was going to try and break him out, but there was even less chance of him getting out by any legal means. “Not even you’re that good Cas. I’ve already pleaded guilty.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Cas scoffed, “I know you didn’t do this.”

Even after all this, Cas was still willing to believe the best about him. Dean was vaguely irritated. Couldn’t everyone just leave him here to rot in peace? “I did it man, I told you.”

“Are you taking the fall for Adam? He’s your half-brother right?” Cas said hopefully.

Dean snorted. “That little creep is no brother of mine.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m guilty Cas! Okay? I’m the South Valley Firebug or whatever you want to call me.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “I killed all those people. I butchered them and watched them die. Watched the hope fade from their eyes when they realised they wouldn’t be walking away.” The Demon was doing the talking now and even to Dean, his voice sounded deeper. “I burned their bodies so not even their family would have the comfort of finding them and I enjoyed every Goddamn second of it.”

Cas dropped the phone but seemed unable to tear his eyes away from Dean’s. He had heard the Demon speak and now he could be certain of the truth. Eventually he picked the phone up and pressed it to his ear. “Well, I guess that makes our job a whole lot easier,” he said coldly. “Gabriel was going to stop by to see you. You want me to tell him not to?”

Dean shrugged. As much as he was enjoying this break in routine, he really couldn’t be bothered shattering another colleague’s illusions of him. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Goodbye Dean,” Cas said, before hanging up the phone without waiting for a reply. Dean watched him go before his guard appeared at his shoulder.

“Good job jackass,” he said, pulling Dean to his feet. “A guy in your position could use a few friends on the force.”

Dean ignored him. Even with friends (and family) on the force, he was screwed. Cutting ties now would just make things easier on him. He was soon back in his cell, alone, plotting Adam’s death. Hey, some people did crosswords…

Cas had been the first visitor, but unfortunately, he wasn’t the last. Gabriel had shown up the next day ignoring Cas’ warning. He was convinced he could find some little piece of evidence that would prove Dean’s innocence. After all the time they’d spend working together, shooting him down had been surprisingly difficult for Dean.

Next was Bobby who had apparently shown up just to glare at him. Dean had sat looking back blankly, waiting for Bobby to say something.

“You fucking psychopath,” he said eventually. All Dean could do was shrug. It was true after all. “What would your father have thought?”

Dean couldn’t help laughing. “He knew,” he said with half a smile.

“Bullshit,” was all Bobby said before storming off, and Dean was whisked back to his cell.

After the sixth day of breakfast shower yard lunch yard dinner sleep, Dean was getting particularly sick of the whole situation. He spent most of his time thinking about his next meal which was never worth the wait. He would kill for a slice of pie and had never meant it so literally. He was brushing his teeth out of boredom for the third time that day when the guard opened his door and stepped inside. “Police here to question you,” he said, sounding almost interested. “Let’s go.”

Dean followed him through a series of corridors and locked doors before being handed over to a different guard and being led through even more corridors. He was almost relieved when they reached their destination. “He’s all yours,” the guard said into the room before standing aside and allowing Dean access. He felt a brief moment of embarrassment at his grey prison jumpsuit when he found himself face to face with Sam and Ellen, before remembering it was Sam who put him there.

“Sammy, you came!” Dean said with mock sincerity.

“Sit down Dean,” Ellen said before Sam had a chance to respond.

Dean sat down across the table from the two detectives, suddenly feeling more like a criminal than he ever had before. He looked over at Sam who was staring furiously at him. Dean had really hoped he’d have calmed down a bit by now, but apparently not.

Ellen looked back and forth between them a couple of times before clearing her throat. “Look boys, you have a lot to talk about, so just pretend I’m not here, okay?” She gave Dean a look of what could almost be called sympathy, before getting up and crossing the room to look out the window.

“Thanks Ellen,” Sam said, before getting back to glaring.

Dean felt like he was supposed to say something, like he should apologise or something, but Sam would see right through that, so he just looked back at him. “Why Ruby?” he said eventually. They always wanted to know why. “She didn’t satisfy your so-called code. Why did you do it?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” Dean warned.

“Tell me,” Sam growled.

“Truth is, she did satisfy the code. She was a black widow. She’d have killed you if I hadn’t killed her first,” Dean said, not taking his eyes off his brother.

“Bullshit,” Sam said.

“You honestly saying you never did a background check on her?” Dean asked. He had to admire Sam’s trust.

Sam finally looked away. “You could have just told me instead of killing her,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s not up to you who lives and who dies.”

“I don’t want to talk about this Sam,” Dean said, glancing at Ellen who was staring out the window.

Sam laughed slightly hysterically. “I’m so sorry Dean, am I making you uncomfortable?”

“What do you want me to say man? Do you want me to apologise? Do you want me to deny it?”

“No…” Sam said, lost for words. “I… I want you to actually _feel_ sorry!”

“Well I’m not,” Dean shrugged. “I’m sorry I was caught. I’m sorry you were the one who caught me. I regret making you…feel the way your feel.”

Sam sighed. “I guess that’s the best I can hope for from you, huh?” Sam pressed his lips together and took a few deep breaths through his nose. Dean would have sworn he was trying not to cry. “They’re pushing for the death penalty you know.”

Dean’s eyes shot up to meet Sam’s. “They… what? But they don’t…” He cleared this throat and tried to gather his thoughts. They hadn’t executed anyone in Colorado in almost 20 years. The idea that it might happen to him hadn’t even crossed his mind! There was no way a judge would sentence him to death… he’d been killing bad guys after all. He gave Sam a desperate look. “You wouldn’t let that happen, would you Sam?”

Sam looked almost regretful. “I doubt I could stop them.”

For the first time since he’d been caught, he felt genuine fear. Life in prison, he could probably have handled, but spending the rest of his life on death row was a whole other proposition. “Sammy, please. I need your help. I don’t have anyone else.”

“Stop it Dean,” Sam whispered, staring down at the table. “This is already hard enough.” The tears in his eyes were unmistakable now.

“You’re gonna let this happen,” Dean stated.

“You really don’t know what this has done to me, do you?” Sam muttered.

“To _you_?”

“Yes Dean, to me. I know thinking about other people is a foreign concept to you, but try it for a minute. I’ve spent a year obsessing over who killed my girlfriend and all that time you just let me. Then it turned out to be the person I care about more than anyone!” he lowered his voice, “someone I just realised exactly _how much_ I care about. Have you any idea how difficult life’s going to be without you?”

Dean tried to imagine it, just as Sam had said. He was soon feeling something else he didn’t much care for. Guilt. “Fuck. Sammy, I’m sorry. I never thought.”

Sam huffed out a humourless laugh. “I almost believe that.”

“Can I ask you something? It’s been driving me crazy,” Dean said, not really expecting Sam to do him any favours any more.

“What?” Sam said without looking at him.

“If I hadn’t killed Ruby, would you have ever turned me in?”

Sam considered it for a moment and took a deep breath before answering, “Probably not.”

The Demon had warned him not to kill Ruby.

There was nothing left to say. Sam pressed the button on the intercom to tell the guard outside they were finished. Dean gave him one last pleading look, but it was pointless and he was soon back in his cell, alone.

There was nothing more he could do. Dean was Damned. Doomed. Done for. Defeated.


	26. Epilogue

The kid doesn’t know what’s coming. As far as he’s concerned, it’s just another night out with his friends. He doesn’t see the predator lurking in the shadows, waiting for him to leave the bar alone, as usual, and make his way back to his dorm.

As Adam passes his hiding place, Dean steps out behind him and wraps a length of fishing line around his neck. “Surprise motherfucker,” he whispers, before pulling him back into the shadows and out of sight.

Another hand appears out of the darkness and squeezes a syringe of tranquiliser into the man’s neck. The Demon huffs at the intrusion, but Dean welcomes the assistance. Together they carry Adam back to his doom like a college kid that had one too many.

The guy wakes up a while later, groggy but quickly remembering what had happened. “Dean. What the h…I heard on the news you were being sent down for life.”

Dean gives him a smirk. “I’m a little more resilient than that. You can’t keep a creature like me in a cage for long.”

Adam struggled against the ropes tying him to his bed, looking as pathetic as every other murderer Dean had killed. “You don’t want to do this Dean. I’m your brother,” he said desperately.

“If you’ve been watching me like you said you have, you’ll know this is the point in proceedings where I show you what earned you this treatment,” Dean says, dusting off his favourite knife absent-mindedly. “And here he is,” Dean says, pointing to Sam sitting on Adam’s couch, looking almost bored.

“No way,” Adam says breathlessly. “Sam’s in on this too? I thought he—”

“You thought wrong,” Dean says, placing a possessive hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Turns out I’m not the only one with a weak spot. ‘The Notorious Winchester Brothers’ they’re calling us on the news. Sure beats the South Valley Firebug. Apparently we’ve dropped almost 50 bodies between us,” Dean says fondly. “How many did you contribute to that total Sammy?”

Sam rolls his eyes, like he’s indulging a child. “None. And let’s keep it that way. Can we move things along please?”

“Why are you doing this?” Adam begs.

The Demon grins. “To be perfectly honest,” he says, “I just don’t like you.”

Dean butchers Adam on his bed, allowing him to die gradually from the pain and blood loss. There’s no need to hide the evidence. As soon as anyone finds him they’ll know exactly who’s to blame.

“So,” Dean says as he tosses his kill tools into the trunk of the Impala. “Where to first?”

“I dunno Dean,” Sam says, standing a few feet away, eying their surroundings like a lookout. “I’m sort of new to this whole ‘on the run from the police’ thing.”

Dean thinks about it for a moment. “Let’s just drive until we get to a motel or something. There are a hell of a lot of bad guys out there, literally getting away with murder. What do you say?”

Sam sighs. “It’ll take some getting used to,” he admits, “but as long as we’re together, I’m willing to give it a shot.”


End file.
